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I 



FASHIONS AND FOLLIES 



OP 



WASHINGTON LIFE. 



A PLAY, 



IN FIVE ACTS. 



BY HENRY CLAY PREUSS. 



^^ Park Benjamin, Esq., the eminent author and critic, says 
of this Play, after a thorough critical examination : "The literary 
merits of your play, as a picture of society — a satire with its dia- 
logue — are all first-rate — built of spice, and wit, and genuine fun. 
Some of your points are as keen as Sheridan's.'^ 



^l■ 



PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR. 



WASHINGTON, D. C 

1867 

9~ 







ii 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in die year one thousand 
eight hundred and fifty-seven, by HENRY CLAY PREUSS, in the 
Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
District of Columbia 



INTRODUCTORY. 

The purpose of the author in writing this play was not 
so much to conform to the old canons of dramatic criti- 
cism, as to exhibit a panoramic view of characters and 
events, illustrative of Metropolitan life and society. 

The '' moral points" of the play are so plain, that ^^ he 
who runs may read ; " nor are they aimed so much at 
men, as at those j^rincq^Ies and practices in our social and 
political body, which serve, more or less, to mould, and to 
vitiate, individual character. 

It must be gratifying to every humanitarian to know 
that the evils here adverted to, are gradually yielding to 
a progressive and enlarged moral sense in the public ; and 
should this humble effort aid, in any degree, in advancing 
the good work of reform, the author will deem himself 
richly repaid for the labor of his task. 

Washington, March 10, 1857. 



PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 

Col. Delaney — A Government Clerk — Colonel by enrtesy. 

Emma Delankv— Daughter of Col. Delaney — A true woman. 

Capt. Jack Smith* — Ex-Captain and retired politician— An old " fogy." 

Tom Scott — Capt. Smith's body-serrant — An ancient gentleman from Africa. 

ToNAWAHAf— A live Indian Chief. 

John Sharker ^*: — A Government Clerk — An unmitigated compoand of ras- 
cality. 

IJiLL Slt — A Department Messenger — ^tool of Sharker's, and always " agree- 
ahle." 

Hon. Col. Cecille — Genuine Honorable, but bogas Colonel. 

Sharpsteel — Friend of Cecille — A wit. 

NoALL — A gentleman who " knows all about it. " 

Hon-. Gex. Bla.ve — Genuine Honorable, but bogus General. 

Hon. Col.De Courcet — Friend of Blane — Genuine Honorable but bogus Colonel. 

Mrs. Sixgletox— a dashing widow— " Fair, " but neither "fat" nor "forty." 

Hex. Mrs. Bangs axd Daughter — Verdant flowers from tbe backwoods. 

Attendant Surgeon — Company, &c. 

* The strong individuality of this character may excuse a few introductory 
remarks : The " striking points" of the Captain are, a very red face, and very 
^yhite hair, brushed up a la General Jaclson — together with a peculiar enuncia- 
tion—for example: his favorite expression, "7'?7 sioaTloio my Tiead!" he enunci- 
ates in the tone sometimes of a threat, sometimes of a dogged determination — 
and again, of a mere affirmation. Another very noted peculiarity with him is, 
a spasmodic fall, or jerk, of the under jaw, immediatelj' preceding the word 
'' sioallow'' — thereby indicating active preparations for carrying his threat into 
execution — which, fortunately for a large circle of devoted friends, has never yet 
come to pass. No reason has been assigned for this singular and repeated deter- 
mination of the Captain's, unless it be the mere association of ideas — bis head 
being in close proximity to his mouth. There is a gentlemen somewhere in 
Dickens's Novels, if I remember aright, who repeatedly threatens to eot {not 
swallow) his own head. As the Captain is of English pedigree, there may be 
some relationship between the two; and if so, the singular desire they manifest 
to dispose of their heads in so unusual and summary a manner may be attrib- 
uted to a " family propensity." ^Vith this introduction, I beg leave to recom- 
mend the Captain to the kind consideration and polite attentions of the reader. 

t By way of apology for this gentleman's bad grammar, the reader is in- 
formed that he claims no relationship with that mongrel class usually repre- 
sented on our stage, whose Anghy-Saion proclivities are strikingly manifested by 
the miraculous fluency and propriety with which they speak our " King's Eng- 
lish." 

X This gentleman belongs to that class of much-abused but indispensable per- 
sonages in all dramas or novels, viz: Villains. It may be stated, however, for 
the honor of humanity, that Sharker is not a real individual entity, but a con- 
centration of the bad points of different men, in one focus of rascality. 



FASHIONS AND FOLLIES 

OF 

WASHINGTON LIFE. 



ACT I. 

Scene I. — A Private Office-room. 
Enter JoHN SHARKER. 

Sharker. Aha ! he calls me a spy — a traitor — a 
treacherous reptile ! Let me see : reptile means snake. 
Snakes bite : so will I ! Snakes poison : so will I ! Snakes 
kill : so will I ! When I first went into the office he 
treated me like a nigger. I hate him for that ! He 
never invited me to his house, and when I did go, I had 
to push myself through a third person. I hate him for 
that ! He has denied me every opportunity of winning 
his daughter's affections, and done everything to poison 
her mind against me : I hate him for that ! and now he 
has disgraced me before the whole office by calling me a 
spy — a treacherous reptile ! and I hate him, curse him, 
and will crush him for that ! Let me see : I'll go to 
work and oust him out of his office — worm him out, root 
and branch — and leave him to starve on the cold charity 
of the world ! Yes, I will ! by Heaven I will ! He has 
trodden on the snake — and now he shall find that snakes 
bite. 

I wonder why the devil that fellow Sly's not here ac- 
cording to promise — it's a half an hour over the time. 
By the way, Sly is a very useful servant to Uncle Sam — 



6 



FASHIONS AND FOLLIES 



[Act I. 



and JoJin Sharker! — ^knows everybody, and attends to 
everybody's business better than his own : pays strict at- 
tention to keeping the government horses in harness — 
reports all delinquencies that occur, and some that don't 
occur : does all my dirty work for me at reasonable 
charges : in fact, Sly is an indispensable member of so- 
ciety — a faithful servant to Uncle Sam, and — Lord for- 
give me for lying — a very honest man. And yet, although 
this fellow is a tool, he's a two-edged one, and may cut 
the wrong way. However, I have nothing to fear so long 
as I keep my hook well baited. 

Filter Sly. 

JS^i/. How de do, squire. 

fSharJi-er. Why Sly I the very man I wanted to see — 
how are you — how are you ? 

Sf?/. Well, squire, I'm agreeable, thanky; nothin on- 
common; how's yourself. 

Sharker. Oh, poorly Sly, poorly — ^felt a little '^ down 
in the mouth" — been taking a little brandy to bring me 
nj) — come, won't you join me in a glass ? 

/S/y. Well, squire, I'm agreeable — don't care if I do — 
[^dy-inks.'] My eyes ! but that ere's good licker. 

Sliarker. You may well say that, old boy; it cost me 
eight dollars a gallon. 

Sly. Whew ! how you high sal'ry folks do live. 

Sharker. Well, you know we government clerks are 
like poor sailors; we don't know at what time we may 
have to tumble out of our berths, and so we adopt the 
motto, dum vivimus vivamus — which means, in plain 
English, ^^go it while _you're young !'' I3y the way. Sly, 
have you seen anything of that fellow, Johnson, since 1 
got him turned out for getting on a spree ? 

Sly. Why, yes ; seed him staggerin about the streets 
late last night — he was mutterin somethin to himself 
'bout his dead wife — you know he said he got on that 
spree on account of losin his wife; and I tell you what, 
squire, he was a cussin you like blazes ! 

Sharker. Cursing me ? the infernal scoundrel ! Sl}^, 
did you ever know a good-for-nothing, drunken loafer to 
cct drunk and neglect his office without having some 



Scene I.'] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 7 

lying excuse ? Now, how does the case stand with us : 
while such fellows as this Johnson are loafing about town 
and spending Uncle Sam's money without earning it, such 
men as you and I, Sly, are toiling our very finger nails 
off for our bread, and if we attempt to do our duty, and 
report these fellows, we are immediately branded as 
^^spies,'^ and "traitors/^ Now I ask you, as an honest 
man, is this right ? 

JSl^. Why, squire, that 'ere is a wery jest argement; 
as jest an argement as I ever hearn from our preacher or 
a member of Congress. My eyes ! what a lawyer you'd 
a' inade I you does have sitch clair. idees ; now some say 
that clair idees come from edication — some from blood or 
natur — but I says it all conies from drinking good licker. 

Sharker. \^Aside.'] The greedy old rumsucker ! but I 
must humor him. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Well, Sly, that's quite 
an original idea — suppose we try another horn. 

Sly. I'm quite agreeable, squire. \^Drinks.'] My 
eyes ! but that 'ere is good licker — not sich pizen stuff as 
we poor folks have to drink. If ever I gits rich, I'll make 
my son Tommy drink nothin but good licker — it does 
clair 'way the idees so ! 

Sharker. Now, Bill, I want to go to business. 

Sly. I'm agreeable to that, squire. 

S^iarker. There's a certain man in my way — he takes 
up too much of my sea-room — I want you to lend me a 
hand to pitch him overboard. 

Sly. All right — what's his signals ? 

Sharker. He's our head clerk — old Ned Delaney. 

Sly. What ! old Col. Delany ? 

Sharker. Yes — why do you shake your head ? 

Sly. 'Cause I reether it been somebody else. 

Sharker. Somebody else ? the devil ! what do you 
mean ? 

Sly. Why, squire, to tell the truth and shame the 
devil, it would go ^^agin my grain'' to hurt one hair on 
that 'ere old man's head. You see the Colonel was the 
best friend I ever had afore I got my office. When me 
and my family was about to be turned out of house and 
home, he paid our three months' rent and kept us afloat 
till I got my 'pintment. 



FASHIONS AND FOLLIES 



lAct I. 



Sharlcer. Bill Sly ! who was it that got the messenger 
before you turned out? 

Slij. Squire Sharker. 

Sharhcr. AVho was it that went afterwards to the Sec- 
retary and got you the place ? 

Sit/. Squire Sharker. 

Sharker. Who has been advancing you funds, off and 
on, ever since, without a cent of interest ? 

Sl^/. Squire Sharker. 

Sharl'cr. Now listen to me, Bill Sly — if you don't, 
you'll lose the best and only friend you have in the world. 
This man Delaney has denounced me publicly before the 
office as a spy, because I got Johnson turned out. Now 
you know you had a finger in that pie as well as myself — 
but I never breathed your name in the whole business — 
I never betrayed you — and now I ask you plainly whether 
you will stand by me as I have all along stood by you — 
whether you will act for a friend, like Vi friend. 

Sli/. Squire — nuff said — I'm agreeable ! 

Sharker. That's spoken like a man ! like Billy Sly 
himself. 

Sl^. It's all owin to drinkin good licker, squire, it 
kind of puts so much pluck and friendship in a man's 
heart. 

Sharker. Good ! let's take another horn on that. 

Sl^. I'm wery agreeable — don't care if I do. l^D)nnks.'] 
Blind my eyes ! if that 'ere ain't licker as is licker I 

Sharker. Now, Bill, let us come to the point at once. 
You see this little book, [taking out of his pocket a small 
note hook .•] there's half a dozen political death-warrants 
here already, and I want old Delaney' s to complete the num- 
ber — as you and he are old acquaintances, I want you to 
give me all the information you can to help on the good 
cause — now's the time to prove yourself a true friend to 
the administration — come, out with it ! 

Si)/. Well, squire, I think I've got a few itims that will 
tell pretty hard on the Colonel. In the fuss place, the 
old chap is got a way of gwine out every day 'bout 12, 
to git his bitters — says it helps to ease his rumatiz or 
some kind of mizry in his stomach ; but still it's agin the 
rules, you know. 



Scene /.] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 9 

SliarJcer. Against the rules ? Of course it is — setting 
tlte Secretary's authority at defiance ! Make a note of 
that. [ Wr'iies.'\ 

Sly. Certingly it is : well, in the secind place, you 
know the Colonel is got a great ambishin to keep up his 
old Yirginny style, so once in a while he gives a dinner 
party to his old chums and a sprinklin of members. 

Sharher. A dinner party ! the extravagant old spend- 
thrift ! How dare a government clerk give a dinner 
party. Ahem ! make a note of that. Entertains hand- 
somely — fortune independent of salary — loss of office no 
inconvenience to family. [ WintesJ] Well, what else ? 

SJy. You see, as I am pretty handy about setch things, 
he often gits me to lend a hand in superintendin the ta- 
ble and so forth ; so I manages to pick up a good many 
itims of small talk and politics over the wine-bottle. 

Sharker. Eh ? politics over the wine-bottle ? that's the 
very trail I'm on. What have you heard ? 

Sly. Well, squire, I've beared enough to know, that if 
ever there was a rotten-hearted old fed'ralist, that 'ere 
man's Colonel Delaney ! 

Sharker. What ! Federalist ? good ! by Heaven ! good, 
better, best ! give me a proof of that. Bill, and your for- 
tune's made. 

Sly. Proof! Why, didn't he say that Ginul Hamil- 
ton was the greatest man the Almighty ever put on earth ? 
that old Tom Jefferson wasn't no more compared to him 
than a 4 th of July fire-cracker to a five thousand pounder ? 
didn't he say that the battle of New Orleans was a fight 
'twixt Yankee cotton and British lead — and that if old 
Ginul Jackson had fought another setch battle, cotton 
would riz in the market ! Didn't he say when he was a 
young man nobody ever came to Congress but edicated 
gintlemen and honest men ? Didn't he say so ? Why, 
in course he did! 

Sharker. Th' infernal, old, puffed-up aristocrat ! Sly, 
you may not believe me, but I will say — the truth must 
out — you are a greater man than one half of the shallow- 
brained puppies above ygu — a man that can render such 
service to his country ought to have a high place with a 
big salary 3 and if John Sharker's got any say in the mat- 



10 



FASHIONS AND FOLLIES 



lActl. 



ter, you shall have it — mark my words, you shall have 
it! 

Sli/. Well, squire, I'm 'bleeged to you. I never likes 
to '' bloAV my owu trumpet," as the say in is, but if ther 
ever was a man that was ready to stand by his country, 
that 'ere man is Bill Sly, and I don't care who knows it ! 

Sharker. Good ! and now let us take an old-fashioned 
night-cap, and to-morrow we'll finish up the business. 

Sly. Well, squire, I'm agreeable to that. \Tliey 
drink.^ 

Sharker. Now, meet me here to-morrow night pre- 
cisely at 10, and recollect, mum's the word ! 

Sly. All right, squire; ^' mum's the word," [^Tartly 
aside.~\ My eyes ! what a lawyer he'd a' made ! \_Aloud.'] 
I say, squire, people does say that you must have more 
than one iron in the fire — you is always so much more 
flushed wid cash than the common run of clerks. 

Sharker. Ha ! ha ! all comes from here. Sly, [^Point- 
ing to his forehead^ — all head work — all head work. 

Sly. Well good uight, squire, and riccolect in per- 
tickler, that Bill Sly is always agreeable — he ! he ! he ! 

[Exit Sly. 

Sharker. Sly is a knowing man — thinks I'd make a 
great lawyer — must have more than one iron in the fire 
— ha! ha! ha! You are right there, Sly, but it will be 
a long while before you find them all out. Let me see : 
there's my office salary — iron No. 1 — my barber's trade 
— shaving my spendthrift brother-clerks — iron No. 2 — 
my daily correspondence with New York and Philadel- 
phia papers — iron No. 3 — and my nocturnal correspond- 
ence with the faro-bank — big iron No. 4 ! ha! ha! ha! 

Now for the first " shuffle " in the game : [Putting on 
his hat."] The Secretary promised me an audience at nine 
o'clock to-night: [Looking at his ivatch,1 wants but a few 
minutes of the time now — must " hurry up the cakes." 
I'll take my documents along with me, [Putting note-book 
in his pocket.^ and if I succeed in "making out my case" 
— should old Delaney be turned out and get hard up for 
cash — then his proud daughter may be disposed to look 
more favorably on a $r,000 Government clerk. 



Scene II.'] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 11 

Scene II. — Room in Capt. Smith's Rouse — Table with 
Brandy-bottle aud glasses upon it. 

Capt. Jack Smith and Col. Delaney engaged in an 
earnest political discussion. 

Capt. Smith. 1 tell you what, Ned, there's not one 
grain of reason or sense in the whole of your argument : 
its all flummery, sir, all flummery ! if it isn't, I'll swallow 
my head ! 

Col. Delaney. Yes, yes — that's just like Jack Smith : 
it's all flummery, because you haven't the brains to un- 
derstand it. Now, I should like to know if we wouldn't 
have gone to the devil long ago, if it hadn't been for the 
old Federal party ? 

Capt. S. Gone to the devil ? All I have to say is, 
that those who believe in Federalism had better keep its 
company — for that certainly has gone to the devil ! 

Col. D, There you are again, dodging the point : why, 
what was the condition of the country after the Revolu- 
tion ? No money in our cofi"ers — a heavy public debt — no 
credit or respect abroad — a weak, rickety government at 
home, falling to pieces because it hadn't strength enough 
to hold together : then arose the mighty genius of Ham- 
ilton, who taught the doctrine of union and consolidation : 
it was through Hamilton and the old Federal party that 
the Greneral Grovernment was made strong enough to 
'^ walk alone." 

Capt. S. Walk alone ? yes, and that was about all it 
ever could do under Federalism — but it was the Jefi'er- 
sonian Democracy, sir, that infused new life into her, that 
enabled her not only to walk alone, but to run alone — aye 
sir, to Jly alone, until her proud eagle now flaps its wings 
in the very palaces of European despots ! — Yes, sir — Jef- 
fersonian Democracy has done this — if it hasn't — Fllswal- 
loio 7ny head ! 

Col. D. Now, that is very fine for a stump speech, but 
there is neither rhyme nor reason in it. 

Capt. S. Never mind the rhyme, nor the reason, so it's 
the truth. 

Col. D. Yes, but it isn't the truth. Now you all pro- 
fess to worship George Washington ! what was George 
Washington but a Federalist ? 



12 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES \_Act I. 

Capt. S. George Washington a Federalist ! that's a lie ! 
that is, if anybody else but Ned Delaney had said it. 

Col. D. Very well: Now, wasn't Alexander Hamil- 
ton General Washington's right-hand man ? and when 
the U, S. Bank bill came up before his cabinet — Alexan- 
der Hamilton on one side and Tom Jefferson on the other, 
didn't he side with Hamilton and sign the bill ? Why, 
Jack Smith, who were the Federalists in those days — none 
of your ragtail and bobtail — but gentlemen of birth, pro- 
perty and education — what did they do? why, they built 
up and cemented our institutions — secured us a strong 
government, which commanded the respect of Europe. 

Capt. S. Now, Ned, a strong government is well enough 
to talk about, but it's like a glass of brandy — if it's too 
strong it will make you drunk. The devil of it was, the 
government was becoming too strong for the people — the 
political blood was leaving the extremities of the States 
and the people, and forming a fatal congestion in the 
heart and brains of the General Government. Old Tom 
Jefferson bled the patient just in time to save its life — 
yes, sir 1 it was the Jeffersonian Democracy that first de- 
veloped and brought into action the power of the masses 
— it was the Jeffersonian Democracy that first reduced to 
practice the great principle that a man was a man in his 
own right, and held his charter from God! Yes, sir! the 
Jeffersonian Democracy ! if it wasn't — I'll swallow my 
head! Talk about Alexander Hamilton in the same 
breath with Tom Jefferson — why, it's gross profanity, sir ! 

Col. D. Yes, I agree with you there — it would be gross 
profanity to place Alexander Hamilton in company with 
such men as your Tom Jeffersons and Hickory Jack- 
sons, 

Capt. S. What ! old Hickory Jackson ? What Ameri- 
can is there that's not proud of the name ? 

Col. D. Proud of the name — bah! AVhy, Jack Smith, 
nature could take Henry Clay, make a dozen Andrew 
Jacksons out of him, and then have stuff enough to 
spare I 

Capt, S. Look here, Ned Delaney, you never were 
born in the United States ; no native American could 
talk in that way — why, do you dare to compare General 



Scend 11.'] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 13 

Andrew Jackson with a man who has sold his body and 
soul for an office ? 

Col. D. It's false, sir! false as the heart that fabricated 
it ! Henry Clay was too pure, too great a man for that — 
and mark my words, Jack Smith — posterity will seal my 
verdict ! No, sir ! Henry Clay is one of nature's noble- 
men ; his reputation is not like a dandy's coat, or wo- 
man's bustle, made up of cotton padding ? he never dodged 
his foe behind cotton hales. 

Capt. S. Cotton bales ! blood and thunder ! Who 
dare say that General Jackson dodged behind cotton 
bales ? 

Col. D. 1 dare say so ! When he fought Packenham 
at New Orleans. 

Capt. S. It's a lie — a damned lie ! leave my house, 
sir ! 

Col. D. [Regarding him some moments intently.'] Am 
I asleep ? do I dream ? can I believe my ears ? Jack 
Smith turns his old friend Ned Delaney out of doors. 
Went to the same school — slept in the same bed — played 
at the same games, fifty years ago, and now he drives me 
from his door like a dog ! oh, the heartless ingratitude ! 
Yes, I will leave your house — I will shake the dust from 
my feet, and never darken your threshold again — ^you 
false, ungrateful man ! [ Goes to the door.] 

Capt. S. Ned, come back ! come back, Ned ! it won't 
do for old friends to part this way : Stop, Ned, and hear 
me speak one word before it be too late. 

Col. D. Well, what have you got to say ? I think I've 
heard enough already. 

Capt. S. Just hold on a moment, Ned : don't be so 
quick — let's argue the question like friends. 

Col. D. Argue ? no ! I've got enough of argument : 
I've lost a friend by it — at least one that I was fool 
enough to think ivas my friend. 

Capt. S. And is your friend still, Ned — ^yes ! and ivill 
he your friend till death ! If ever Ned Delaney had a true 
friend in the world, that man's name is Jack Smith I if 
it isn't — Fll swallow my head I 

Col, D. If you are such a friend, why don't you treat 
me like a friend, and not like a dog? 



14 



FASHIONS AND FOLLIES 



{Act I. 



Capt. S. Now, see here, Ned, it ain't no use to get into 
a passion about sucli nonsense — 

Col. D. Passion I nonsense ! what, when you give me 
the lie and kick me out of doors ! 

Capt. S. Ned, I didn't mean anything — you know it's 
my way. To think that I could have talked so to one 
whom I love as my own brother — I — I'm a damned old 
brute — and I know it ! [aS'o&s.] 

Col. D. My dear Jack ! my oldest and best of friends 
— all is forgiven — forgotten ! [^Emhraces him.'] 

Capt. S. God bless you, Ned, for that — let bygones be 
bygones. The fact is, we are a couple of old fools to be 
quarrelling about politics at our time of life. AVhat the 
devil does Hamilton or Jefferson, in their graves, care 
about us, or our opinions ? 

Col. I). True, Jack, true — what difference does it make 
to them? not one whit — and you don't believe, I know 
you don't in your heart believe, that infamous bargain-and- 
sale lie ? 

Capt. S. Not one word of it! if I do, Fll swalloio my 
head! and Ned, you don't allow that cotton-bale lie to 
detract one laurel from the brow of our brave Jackson ? 

Col. D. No, never ! he is the bravest of the brave, and 
the American nation will ever be proud of his name ! 

Capt. S. Good ! bravo ! That's talking like a man — an 
American man ! yes sir, 'tis true that in war, as in politics, 
many things are allowable : I don't deny that our soldiers 
may have used cotton bales for defensive works or barri- 
cades ; but it must be admitted that the battle of New 
Orleans, taken all in all, was one of the best-fought fights, 
one of the most important and brilliant victories on the 
annals of history — if it wasn't, Fll swallow my head I — 
But confound politics, they always manage to burn our 
fingers — let's drop them and take a drink. 

Col. I). AVell, Jack, I'm always ready to join an old 
chum in a social glass. 

Capt. S Th-re's an old saying, Ned — or rather a new 
one, since the liomeopathics have got hold of it — that 
" like cures like." Now, do you know that I suspect that 
it was neither Federalism nor Democracy, but that brandy, 
w:'.i*.-^ made us fall out? 



Scene 11.'] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 15 

Col. D. Well, Jack, on sober consideration I really do 
believe there's some truth in that. 

Ca'pt. S. Certainly, sir, it was the brandy that made 
us fall out; and now, according to the recipe, let us take 
another drink and /all in ! 

Col. D. Ha! ha! ha! Capital! I'll join in that with 
my whole heart and mouth! ha! ha! 

Capt. S. Now, Ned, I'll propose an old-fashioned toast — 
Here's to auld lang syne. 

Col. D. Give us your hand to that, my dear boy! 

Capt. S. Here's to the memory of the past ! Ah, Ned ! 
there's many a treasure of yours and mine gone down in 
its dark waters, never to come back ! never to come back ! 

Col. D. Too true. Jack, too true ! 

Capt. S. Why, it seems like yesterday that we went 
to our first May ball. Ah ! how bright the world appeared 
then ! how the wine sparkled like golden water in the 
glasses — and the music was so sweet, so thrilling, that you 
could almost taste it in every nerve — and the Queen of the 
May, how like a spirit from a brighter world she appeared 
to our boyish vision ! Ah me ! ^tis all over now — the 
Queen — her maids of honor — all have passed away with 
the May flowers which decked their brows that night ! Ah, 
well ! our time must soon come next. Ned, do you re- 
member that last verse in poor Bobbie Burns's song? 
'^ John Anderson, my Joe." 

Col. D. Don't I tho' ! never shall I forget! it's ringing 
in my ears now as fresh as when I first heard it, thirty 
years ago. 

Capt. S. Repeat it, Ned. 

Col. D. Let me see : 

John Anderson, my Jo John, we've clamb the hill thegither, 
And mauny a canny time, John, we've had wi ane anither; 
Now we maun totter down, John, yet hand in hand we'll go. 
And we'll sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson, my Joe ! 

Capt. S. Yes, Ned, but we won't stop at the foot: 
here's hoping that we may journey on, hand in hand, 
through the dark valley, until we reach that land, where 
the old are made young, and where the young never grow 
old! 



16 



FASHIONS AND FOLLIES 



[Act I. 



Col. D. Amen I to that, Jack, with all my heart! [^They 
drink.~\ And now, Jack, I must bid you good night — may 
you go to sleep and dream you are a happy boy again, and 
wake up all the better for it in the morning — good night ! 

Capt. S. Good night, Ned, and God bless you ! 

\_Exit Col. Delaney. 

Capt. S. [Alone."] Jack Smith, you'll excuse the insult, 
but you are a fool — yes, sir, a fool \ — that's just the way 
you've lost so many friends — smothered them with kind- 
ness, and then treated them like dogs. You don't deserve 
a friend, or you wouldn't let your temper get the better of 
your heart. If it hadn't been for this, you might now 
have had a loving wife and smiling children to comfort 
your old age — instead of that, you are living only half a 
life — sneaking about the world like a fox with his tail cut 
off. . . . Oh ! if I could have met with one kind heart, that 
would have been willing to look over my rough manners 
and love me for my better nature ! Let's take a drink I 
[Drinks.'] Tom Scott 1 Tom Scott I 



Enter ToM. 

Tom. Here I is. Massy Jack. 

CajJt. S. Have you obeyed all your master^s orders to- 
day, sir? 

Tom. Yes, Massy. 

Capt. JS. Attended strictly to everything I told you? 

Tom. Yes indeed. Massy — cross my heart ! 

Capt. S. Well done, thou good and faithful servant ! 
take a drink, sir ! [Pours out for Tom.] 

Tom. Thanke, Massy — sarvant, sir. [Raises glass and 
hoics.] 

Capt. S. Come, give us a toast, sir. 

Tom. Ahem ! 

Peace at home — pleasure abroad, 

Lub your wife and sarve de Lord ! [Drinks.] 

Capt. S. Good ! Go to meeting to night, Tom ? 

Tom. Yes, sir, jist come back. 

Capt. S. Spirit move you to-night? 

Tom. Bress de Lord I yes, sir, — de good spairit shine 



Scene //.] of WASHINGTON LIFE. 17 

down like de sun on old Tom's heart — oh ! I feel so good, 
so happy ! all 'cept one ting. 

Capt. S. What was that, Tom ? 

Tom. I tinks I would give all de money in de world if 
poor dear Master could get conwerted to de Lord, and den 
I meet him in de sweet Heaven ! 

Capt. S. Did you pray for me, Tom ? 

Tom. Oh deed I did. Massy Jack — ^I most pray all de 
bref out my mouf for you ! 

Capt. S. Well done, thou good and faithful servant ! 
pull off my boots, sir ! \^Pulls off hoots and puts on slippers.'\ 
Now, Tom, you may go to bed — and be sure to wake me 
up at six in the morning. 

Tom. Yes, sir — good night. Massy. 

Capt. S. Good night, Tom. [^Exit Tom.'\ 

Capt. S. Talk about religion — there's religion for you — 
real simon-pure religion of the heart — none of your patched 
up, make-believe, counterfeit article. When Tom j&rst got 
converted, he used to annoy me with his stentorian praying 
and hymn singing — threatened to flog him if he didn't put 
a stop to it — a few days after, overheard him down in the 
bushes, praying to the good Lord to soften his poor mas- 
ter's heart, to forgive him all his sins, and convert his 
soul to heaven! Never heard such praying before nor 
since — couldn't stand it — took me completely down — told 
him, ever after, to pray as loud and as long as he pleased, 
and always to remember me in his prayers. Believe the 
old creature's prayers have done me some good — feel as if 
I shall go to bed now on a sound conscience. [^Retires to 
bed-room.'] 

Scene III. — Parlor in a Hotel. 

Enter CoL. Cecille, gazing intently on a daguerreotype 
which he holds in his hands. 

Col. C. Beautiful ! beautiful as Raphael's dream of the 
Virgin ! most beautiful ! and those soft, rich, tremulous 
eyes — what an ocean of love and purity wells up as I gaze 
on them ! Strange, that man should be such an enigma 
even to himself : Here am I — past the sunny side of thirty- 



FASHIONS AND FOLLIES 



\_Act I 



five ; seen human nature in all its phases — tasted of every 
excitement in life — yearning from my youth for the love of 
one pure, devoted heart — doomed to repeated and bitter 
disappointments, until I lost all faith in love or woman — 
and now, to think that I, a hardened infidel, should at last 
become converted by — a daguerreotype ! — yes, converted 
from the evil of my ways, and joined the church of — Cupid ! 
And who is the mighty magician that has worked this mira- 
cle ? why, a sweet, simple-hearted girl ! I may almost 
say — a school girl I — oh, William Cecille ! who could have 
dreamed that such a fate awaited you ! . . . Now, there is 
that fascinating widow Mrs. Singleton : proud, brilliant, 
and accomplished — come to Washington I suppose to make 
a splendid '^ match'' — If it be possible for her to love, 
I have reason to believe that she doesn't hate me — and I 
am quite sure she thinks that I love her. Not quite so 
fast, tho', my irresistible charmer — my heart is like a front 
seat in the theatre on a crowded night — "it's taken!" 
— oh ! here comes this blooming flower of widowhood. 



Fntej' Mrs. Singleton. 

iliy-s. aS^. Ah, Colonel, I declare I shall never recover 
from the effect of last-night's levee. 

Col. C. Indeed ! I thought you were agreeably enter- 
tained. 

Mrs. S. Entertained ? why, it's a perfect human me- 
nagerie ! ha ! ha ! ha ! Such a heterogeneous conglomera- 
tion of all styles, sorts and sizes : old superannuated beaux, 
fossil remains of juvenile gallantry : slim-waisted exquisites 
and shanghai-dandies — so long in the body and so light 
in the upper story — it actually made my head swim to look 
at them ! Then came the fair sex — oh, murder ! here an 
elegant Boston or New York belle — equipped in the last 
Paris fashions, and by her side a verdant flower of the 
backwoods— whose whole tout ensemble reminded me strong- 
ly of the picture of my grandmother ! ha ! ha ! But the 
most amusing part of the performance was the rich profu- 
sion of titles — thick as jewels in the full dress of a Rus- 
sian duchess :. such a continual repetition of Capt. and Col. 
and Maj. and Gen. and Gov.. — why, I never heard the plain 



Scene III.'] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 19 

word ''Mister'' but once, and then it was, "Mr. Presi- 
dent'' — It seemed as if the title of "Mr.'' was too weak 
to stand alone, so they had to tack it on to "President" 
or " Secretary." A little snub-nosed, squint-eyed and rath- 
er antique biped of mortality near me was addressed as 
"General" — I inquired into his antecedents, and was told 
that he was a respectable huckster — got a contract to 
supply Grovernment-troops with beef — made a handsome 
" spec " — rose rapidly through the various grades of Capt., 
Major, and Col., and is now dubbed " General ! " ha ! ha ! 
ha! 

Col. C. Oh, Mrs. S., you are very severe on our metro- 
politan fashions — but one thing may be said in their favor ; 
This "heterogeneous conglomeration" you speak of, pro- 
duces a mental and moral friction which serves to bring 
out real and original points of character. Washington so- 
ciety is unlike one of your mammoth New York cloth- 
ing establishments — where a man goes in like himself, and 
comes out like everybody else. In Washington, a man 
enjoys the privilege of living out himself: the Northerner, 
Southerner, and Westerner have each their own fashions — 
which imparts variety to the whole, and that you know, is 
the " spice of life." By the way, Mrs. Singleton, you are 
fond of " characters," are you not ? 

Mrs. S. Oh, extravagantly ! more so than I am of a 
thrilling novel, or beautiful poem — for the latter often 
makes me cry — but the former are always sure to make me 
laugh — and you know a good laugh is better than a bad 
cry! 

Col. C. Oh, then I shall have the pleasure of introduc- 
ing to you this morning a gentleman who will please you 
prodigiously. His name — a very appropriate one — is Mr. 
Noall — his peculiar point is,- that he knows everybody and 
everything, and so we have dubbed him " Jir. Know-all-ahout 
it." ril venture to say there is not a human beingVhose 
name you can mention, whether in Kamschatka, New Zea- 
land, or Patagonia, but that he is sure to " Know all about 
him " — ask him about any circumstance that you are cer- 
tain no one knows but yourself — and he "knows all about 
it" — I sincerely believe, if he were run. in a close corner. 



20 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES \_Act L 

he would swear he was acquainted with the man in the 
moon ! 

3//S. S. Ha ! ha ! ha ! what a genius to be sure — what 
a rare gem for my cabinet of human curiosities ! ha ! ha ! 
By the by, speaking of characters, this reminds me of your 
Western friend you introduced me to at the levee last night 
— the Hon. Mrs. Bangs. 

Col. C. Oh, yes — she is stopping here with her hus- 
band, and will probably give us the pleasure of her compa- 
ny this morning — ah ! here comes Mr. ^^ Know-all-about- 
it/' 

Enter NoALL. 

Noall. Good morning, my dear Colonel — ^punctual to my 
promise you see. 

Col. C. Ah, Noall, happy to see you (aside) — just in 
time — let me introduce you to the widow — charming wo- 
man—splendid catch— $200,000 ! 

Noall. Oh yes ! I know all about — all about it ! 

Col. C. Mrs. Singleton, allow me to present my friend 
Mr. Noall; Mrs. Singleton, Mr. Noall. \_Thei/ salute.'] 

Noall. Your first visit to Washington, madam ? 

Mrs. S. My first visit, sir; but so pleasant a one, that 
I trust it will be the prelude to many more — ^you, I pre- 
sume, have visited Washington often ? 

Noall. Oh, many times, many times, madam — almost 
a permanent fixture of the establishment. 

Mrs. S. Indeed! then I presume you are thoroughly 
initiated in the mysteries of metropolitan life and etiquette. 

Noall. Oh yes, ma'm, know all about it — all about it. 
Tho' young in years, an old habitue here during the ses- 
sion-season — seen five Presidents sworn in — heard all the 
great men speak — acquainted with most of them (those 
worth knowing) — attended all the balls, levees, theatres, 
et ceteras — figured extensively in love, politics, and diplo- 
macy-^know all about, ma'm — all about it ! 

Mrs. S. Indeed, Mr. Noall — how I envy you — then I 
shall have to engage you as my cicerone — as I am a mere 
neophyte, with only forty-eight hours acquaintance with 
the city. I trust, Mr. Noall, you will give me the benefit 
of your extended experience in Washington life ? 



Scene III.'] or Washington life. 21 

JVball. With the greatest pleasure ma'm — [patronizing- 
ly\ — you are an apt pupil^ and I have no doubt in a short 
time you will soon — 

Mrs. S. " Know all about it I" ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Noall. Precisely so, ma'm — know all about it ! 

Enter Hon. Mrs. Bangs and Daughter. 

Mrs. B. Good mornin' ladies and gentlemen, good morn- 
m\ 

Col. C. Ah, Mrs. Bangs, I hope you rested well after 
last night's "campaign." 

Mrs. B. Oh, dear no. Col. I didn't mind the champagne y 
but it was those chicken-fixens what troubled me — I had 
the awfulest night of it. And then you know before the 
supper I had to trot about on my feet three mortal long 
hours at the President's levvy. Were you at the levvy 
Mr. — Mr. — \to Col. Cecille\ what's his name ? 
. Col. C. Mr. Noall. 

Mrs. B. Ah ! Mr. Noall — were you at the levvy last 
night ? 

Noall. Oh, yes, ma'm, know all about it — great jam — 
no refreshments — ^plenty of ugly faces — "game wasn't 
worth the candle." 

Mrs. S. Candle ? why I saw no candles, Mr. Noall — 
they were all chandeliers. 

Noall. Oh, yes, ma'm — I understand — speaking figura- 
tively — know all about it. 

Mrs. B. Are you a Washingtonian, Mrs. — dear me, I 
have sitch a bad memory for names. 

Mrs. /S. Mrs. Singleton — no, madam, my acquaintance 
with Washington extends only to forty-eight hours — is this 
1/our first visit ? 

Mrs. B. Dear me, yes ! and I hope and trust it will be 
my last. You see I wouldn't be here this time, only hus- 
band was lected to Congress — and I thought I'd come on 
to see the "elephant" and keep my old man out of bad 
company — .for they do say that some of these here memr 
bers are awful wild chaps, and sometimes go to places 
where they've got no business to be. Haven't you heard 
so, Mr. — Mr. Nole ? 



22 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES [Act I. 

Koall. Oh, yes, ina'm, know all about — all about it. 
Mrs. S. Know all about it ? why, Mr. Noall, is it possi- 
ble that you keep such bad company ? 

Col. C. Ha ! ha ! ha ! \_Aside.'] Noall, you are floored • 
she has all the "points'^ on you now — ha ! ha! ha ! 

Noall. [^Aside to Cecille.^ Smart woman that — well 
posted up — knows all about it — she's entitled to my hat ! 

3Irs. S. Well, Mr. Noall, Til pardon your company- 
keepingj if you will oblige me by ringing the bell for a 
waiter. 

Mr. Noall. With great pleasure, ma'm. [Rings heJl."] 
Mrs. S. And how are you pleased, so far, with Wash- 
ington, Mrs. Bangs ? 

Mrs. B. Oh, not at all, my dear child, not at all — sitch 
noise and bustle and visiting and parties and levvys — I 
declare I've felt a sort of upside down ever since I got out 
of the cars. 

Mrs. S. Oh, I guess you will soon become acclimated. 

Mrs. B. Become what ? 

Mrs. S. I mean, you will soon become used to the habits 
of living here. 

Mrs. B. Living ? why, bless you, Fm almost dead with dis- 
pepsy already. I never seen sitch fixins as they do have 
here — why, it takes a person with a regular boarding-school 
edication jest to read the bill of fare they have at the din- 
ner table ! Then, what a quair way they've got of visitin' 
here — now, in our parts, when we visit we visit — either take 
dinner and spend the day, or take supper and spend the 
evening — and get paid for the trouble of fixin up. But 
here, in Washington, folks trot around in hacks, leave 
their names on little white kairds, without as much as get- 
tin out to say how de do, or even seein one another — seems 
to me they must be mighty afeard of forgettin one another's 
names. But lor bless me, I've got to make a dozen mornin 
calls — hope I shall see you all at dinner time — good morn- 
in, Mrs. Single — Singletree — good mornin, gentlemen — 
[To her daughter,'] come, Molly Ann. [Exit.'] 

Mrs. S. Ha ! ha ! ha ! There's a character for you — 
what do you think of her Hon. ladyship, Mr. Noall ? 



Scene III.'] of WASHINGTON LIFE. 23 

Nball. Oh ! exceedingly verdant — never been beyond 
the smoke of her log cabin and — 

Mrs. S. '^ Knows nothing about it " — ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Enter Irish Waiter. 

J/rs. JS. Ah ! CoL, be kind enough to bring me a glass 
of water. 

Waiter. \_Aside.'] And is it me she calls Kornel ? och ! 
be me sowl, and it's the fine lady she is intirely ! 

NoaJl. Ha! ha! ha! I say, (7ofo?ieZ, she has the ^^jpoints'^ 
on you now. 

Col. C. Oh, I protest, Mrs. Singleton — the title has not 
fallen quite as low as that. 

3frs. S. As low as that I Why, the gentleman from 
Africa who ofiiciates at my chair at table I've named 
Colonel, and the large portly one on the opposite side Tve 
promoted to a General ! — and on my honor, since then, I 
have not heard the word "general" or "colonel" once pro- 
nounced at the table — ha ! ha I 

JVoall. That's a harder slap still. Colonel — ha! ha! 

Col. C. Isay, Noall, you must either drop the "Colonel," 
or ril c?r(9p your acquaintance ; I'll take an oath that I 
never was even at a militia muster in all my life. 

Enter WAITER, loiili water. 

Mrs. Singleton. \Raising the glass.] If you please, Mr. 
Noall — here is to our better acquaintance — is it agreed ? 

Noall. Oh, certainly. It will afford me the greatest 
pleasure to cultivate so charming an acquaintance — [Aside] 
that's a lie ! 

Mrs. S. Indeed ? then allow me to say the compliment 
is most cordially reciprocated. [Drin/cs.] 

Noall. [Aside.] Ahem! that's another ! — I thank you 
ma'm — I shall now take leave of you, with the pleasing 
anticipation of many more happy meetings, [aside,] lie No. 3; 
good morning, madam — good morning, Col. — oh, I forget 
Mister Cecille — ha ! ha ! ha ! 

3Irs. S. Ah ! Mr. Noall — one word, if you please — I am 
told that a very important Cabinet meeting is to be held to- 
day — please call this evening, and let us, "7cnow-all-ahout-it.'' 



24 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES ^Act I. 

Col. C. Ha ! ha ! [Aside,'] Noall, you had better beat 
a retreat — you've caught a tartar ! 

Noall. Thank you, madam — I owe you a very large one 
— good morning. [Exit.'] 

Mrs. S. Well, Col. — will you not acknowledge, after this 
last specimen, that Washington is a perfect menagerie ? 

Col. C. Why, I must confess, my friend is a very de- 
cided character in his way — but why so severe ? 3'ou should 
have selected a foeman more worthy your steel. 

3frs. S. Oh, I was only "keeping my hand in" — I was 
afraid my weapons would rust for want of use — ha ! ha ! 
By the by, Col., you are to "hold forth" in the House to- 
day ; and as I am to honor you with my presence, I must 
now retire to prepare for the momentous occasion — at what 
time have you ordered the carriage ? 

Col. C. At half-past eleven precisely., 

Mrs. S. Very good — now, my dear Col., do try your best 
to-day ; put forth your most brilliant powers of elocution — 
you will find me an unmerciful critic — besides, since I have 
made the acquaintance of your friend — one of your Wash- 
ington magi — why, of course '' I know-all- alout-it!" ha! 
ha ! lExiL] 

Col. C. Brilliant ! brilliant as an icicle in the sunlight 
— and as cold. No warmth — no soul — all clear, cutting, 
calculating intellect. Could this woman love ? and if she 
did, who could know it — ^wlio could be sure of it ? she is 
ambitious : who can know anything of an ambitious wo- 
man's heart? who can say that it is here or there? ah! 
there is no room there for love — we may fear, admire, won- 
der, even worship — but never love! And j-et, thank God, 
there is still left me one green spot on which the dove of 
pure affection may find a resting place ! [takes out daguer- 
reotype,] here ! here ! " Look upon this picture, and then 
on that ! " the one like the moon — bright but cold and ar- 
tificial — tricked off in borrowed trappings. The other, 
like the sun, swimming in its own created ocean of light, 
and warmth, and beauty ! Ah ! be not alarmed, sweet soul. 
There is no room here but for thee. I have no world, no 
heaven, but in thee — thee! my heart's idol — the dream of 
my later manhood ! [-ExiL] 

END OF ACT I. 



OP WASHINGTON LIFE. 



25 



ACT II. 

Scene I. — Room in Captain Smith's House, us before. 
Enter Capt. Smith, muffled up in great coat and comfort- 
able. 

Capt. S. What a night for any decent, unmarried white 
man to be out in — ugh! it's worse than the itch! Tom 
Scott! [^Unties comfortahle.'\ It's a wonder to me that 
Hamlet, in his catalogue of the ^^ills that flesh is heir to," 
omitted that very important item of babies. Went out in 
the country yesterday to spend a quiet Christmas with an 
old friend — a quiet Christmas ! Got there, found a half- 
a-dozen lady visiters, and each one had brought along a 
bundle of babies ! The house, of course, was a Babel of 
confusion. Went to bed — discovered the horrible fact 
that there were babies above me, babies below, babies to 
the right, and babies to the left — felt under serious appre- 
hension of waking up in the morning, and finding myself 
a great, big, bawling baby. Hadn't got in a doze five 
minutes, before I was startled by the screeching whistle of 
one of these miniature human steam-en-gines ! Towards 
daybreak they broke out in a full chorus, like a bull-frog 
concert, or a bridal serenade of kettle-drums and tin-pans, 
with a slight sprinkling of dog howls by way of interlude ! 
One of the ladies had the impudence to remark, next morn- 
ing, "Ah ! Captain, what a pity you have never tasted the 
joys of matrimony !" Felt like choking her — ugh! talk 
to me about babies — they are the quintessence of human 
misery in homeopathic doses ! Tom Scott ! I wonder if 
that old rascal has gone to sleep ? Tom Scott! [^Stumbles 
over a chair.'] Tom Sc-o-t-t ! ! 

Enter ToM, loith candle, 

Tom. I'se comin. Massy Jack, I'se a comin, sir! 
Capt. S. Why, you confounded sleepy-headed son of 
Africa ! how dare you to go to sleep and leave me to break 



26 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES [Act II. 

my shins in the dark ! Is that the way you treat your 
master, you ungrateful old hound ! eh ? 

Tom. Dat am bery hard word, Massy Jack, bery hard 
word ! I'se always tryin to please you, but Tom's gittin 
old now — can't keep wake like I used to could — Sarved 
you and old Massy afore you, man and child, gwine on 
seventy-the year — nobody neber call old Tom "hound" 
— dat's bery hard word — cut in old nigger's heart wuss 
den de lash on his back ! 

Capt. S. Tom Scott ! you are right ! I beg your pardon, 
sir ! — I'm a hard-hearted old brute ! 

To7n. No you ain't, Massy Jack — no you ain't no sitch 
a ting! — I ain't a'gwine for to hear anybody talk agin my 
Massy — not even hissef ! 

Capt. S. That's right, Tom ! always stick up for your 
master, and he'll stick up for you — remember the old song — 

" In health or sickness, life or death, 
Be faithful to your latest breath !" 

Tom. Dat am de solemn fac — so will I be, please de 
good Lord ! 

Capt. S. That's right, sir ! — take off my coat. [Takes 
off coat, and puts on wrapper.'] Now bring me "black 
Bets," sir. [Tom brings bottle from cupboard^ and places 
it on table] Capt. S. drinks.'] 

Capt. S. Tom Scott ! have ypu said your prayers to- 
night, sir? 

Tom. Yes, Massy. 

Capt. S. Pray for me, sir ? 

Tom. Please de Lord, I neber kneels down on dese old 
bones at night widout puttin in a strong word for my kind 
good master. 

Capt. S. Well done, thou good and faithful servant ! 
Gome up and take a drink, sir. [Pours out for Tom.] 

Tom. Thanky! Massy, thanky! Your sarvant, sir. 
[Makes profound how, and drinks.] Dar now ! dar's some- 
body ringin de bell — spec he must be friz dis cold night. 

Capt. S. Show him up, Tom — show him up. [Exit 
Tom.] What a wretched experiment this world is — it's 
worse than the itch ! To think, that after all the friends I 
have made, all the money I've spent on other people, all 



Scene /.] 



OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 



27 



the backs I have covered, and all the stomachs I have filled 
— not one human being in the wide world could I lean upon 
with the same childlike trust as upon this poor old crea- 
ture. 



Re-enter ToM, showing in CoL. Delaney. 

Capt. S. Why, swallow my head! if that ain't old Ned 
Delany, it's old Ned Delany's ghost! why, my dear old 
friend, what brings you out such a night as this ? but you 
don't look right — what's the trouble? 

Col. D. Ah ! Ned, bad news, dreadful news. 

Capt. S. What ! bad news ? Take a seat, and out with 
it : if old Jack Smith can lend a helping hand, he's your 
man. 

Col. D. Well, Jack, the knife so long suspended over 
my neck has fallen at last — to-day I received my dismissal 
from office — I'm a ruined man ! 

Capt. S. What ! the Devil ! you don't mean to say that 
they have dared to turn you out of your office? 

Col. D. It is too true. Jack, too true ! 

Capt. S. Now, I'm opposed to the indiscriminate use 
of profane language, but I must say — I can't help it — it's 
a damned shame! a man who has grown gray in the ser- 
vice of his government — who has every detail of his office 
at his fingers' end — whose position and associations are 
such — excuse me, Ned, for doubting your word, but the 
thing is impossible. Tell me, what cause was assigned? 

Col. D. No cause was openly assigned, but I am quite 
sure that Sharker, who has wormed himself into the Sec- 
retary's good graces, and who has been promoted to my 
desk, was at the bottom of the whole affair. You know 
him, I believe? 

Capt. S. Know him ? Better than his mother ever did ! 
has a soft, oily tongue — looks over your shoulder when 
he's talking to you. Hadn't been born a man, would cer- 
tainly have come out a snake ! Weil ? 

Col. D. Some three weeks since, a poor fellow in our 
office lost his wife — instead of facing his trouble as a man 
should do, he tried to drown it in the bottle — got on a 
spreC; and was absent some three days from his desk — in 



28 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES [Act IT 

consequence of this, Sharker informed on him to the Sec- 
retary — made out his case much worse than it really was, 
and succeeded in getting him dismissed. I was so much 
incensed at this dastardly act, that I exposed Sharker be- 
fore the whole oJBice — branded him as a spy. From that 
moment he became my mortal enemy; and the result is, I 
have lost my office, and he has got my place. Now, what 
I am to do, Grod only knows. You remember. Jack, that 
fifteen years ago I lost all my property by foolishly en- 
dorsing paper for my friends. I came on to Washington 
and got an appointment. By strict economy, I contrived 
to save enough to educate my children. The oldest, Wil- 
liam Percy, as you are aware, a few days after he had 
graduated, with the highest honors, at the Medical College 
in Philadelphia, contracted a fatal disease in the dissecting- 
room, and, with all the rich gifts of nature and the ad- 
vantages of a finished education, he was taken from me. 
My darling boy, in whom I had garnered up all the hopes 
of my old age — taken from me, and laid in the dark, cold 
grave ! My next child, Emma, — and a more dutiful one 
never gladdened a father's heart — has lately returned from 
the Academy, and is now completing her musical studies. 
Poor thing ! yesterday, I promised her a handsome piano 
on her birthday, to-morrow. She told me, this morning, 
she had been dreaming all night of that beautiful piano — 
painted such a glowing picture of anticipated happiness — 
such as youth only can paint — how she would gladden my 
lonely evening hours — would learn all my favorite old- 
fashioned songs, and drown all my trouble in a flood of 
happy music ! Oh Jack, Jack ! how can I break this sub- 
ject to her? how can I be such a brute as to crush all these 
beautiful flowers of her young hopes — tear away the veil, 
and show her the future in all its horrid deformity ! No, 
no ! I cannot do it — it will break her poor little heart I 
I know it will — it will break her poor little heart ! [ Weeps."] 
Capt. S. Ned, my dear bo}", it's very hard — it's very 
hard — but I wouldn't — you ought — damn it, sir! be a 
man ! never throw up the cards till the game's out — be a 
man, sir ! If you are tumbling down tlie hill, that's no 
reason you should roll to the bottom without giving a kick 
to get up again ! No, sir I God made the world big enough 



Scene 77.] 



OF WASfilJJGTON tlFE. 



29 



to hold you, me, and everybody else that's in it. All 
you've got to do, Ned Delaney, is to face the music like a 
man — things may look dark just now; but take my word 
for it, ^^all will be right in the morning" — yes, sir! Capt. 
Jack Smith says it; and if it isn't so, Fll sioallowmy 
head I 

Col. D. My dear friend, you are rignt — your words give 
me fresh courage. I will — yes — I will try and — face the 
music — but what is to be done ? 

Capt. S. What is to be done ? Why, I'll muster up 
my old friends in Congress — I'll call on the Secretary, and 
state your case myself — he knows my antecedents — that 
I have served my country both on the battle-field and in 
the halls of legislation — that I'm a good old Jeffersonian 
Democrat : I'll unmask the villainy of this double-faced 
traitor. Sharker — I'll have him kicked out, and Ned De- 
laney reinstated in his place — if I don't — Fll swalloiu my 
head! \_Strikes the table very forcibly. ~\ 

Scene II. — Sharker's Room, as be/ore. 
Enter Sharker. 



Sharker. Aha ! you've turned up a trump this time, 
John Sharker: kicked the old chap out, and tumbled 
yourself in his berth — ha ! ha ! You're a great man, 
John Sharker, and only want one thing to make you a 
happy man : You've got the old man out, and now the 
next thing is to " take his daughter in J* Let me see : 
how shall I play my cards ? the devil of it is, a woman is 
both stake and player in this game, and that throws me 
somewhat out of my element : However, one thing is in 
my favor : I am, by no means, a bad looking man, and I 
don't see why she shouldn't fall in love with me as well as 
with any one else .... I love that girl to distraction, and I 
will have her ! I will ! and when John Sharker says I 
will, I defy the devil himself to say I icorCt ! And yet 
there is one very ugly snag in my way, which I shall 
have to root out : this fellow Cecille is evidently pleased 
with her, and I suspect means to address her — he's a 
member of Congress, and somebody — I'm a poor govern- 



30 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES [^Act II. 

ment clerk, and nobody. I must " root him out ! " Let 
me see : he had some sparring with that Southern fire- 
eater, Blane, during the debate on the President's mes- 
sage. Now, by means of my newspaper correspondence, 
I'll manage to keep the old sore running — throw in a few 
hot shots, off and on, from my ambush — hint, in broad 
terms, of Southern chivalry and Southern aggression — 
and lament, most pathetically, a want of Northern pluck 
and spirit — in this way Til keep the steam up until 
there's an explosion. Should they fight — Cecille, being 
a poor shot, will most probably fall — and thus I shall be 
rid of a most powerful and dreaded rival. And yet, there 
is this difficulty : Cecille is a Yankee — and these Yan- 
kees are hard to get in the ring — yes, but when they do 
get in, they hold their grip like Scotch bull-dogs ! How- 
ever, ril try the game, whether I win or lose. After all, 
men are but fish : only bait your hook right, and you've 
got them. Some bite at flattery — some at gold — some at 
good liquor (like my friend Sly) — some at a pretty wo- 
man — and some are like Spanish bulls : shake a red flag 
at them — tickle their honors in a tender spot and they 
tear each other to pieces ! [ Taking %ip a pen."] John 
Sharker, here is the best friend you have in the world. 
With a few passes of this little weapon, I've killed some 
of your loud-mouthed politicians so dead, that the devil 
had a hard search to find his own ! Society is divided 
into two great classes, the somebodies and the nobodies — 
the nobodies always trying to catch hold of the somebo- 
dies, and the somebodies always trying to kick down the 
nobodies — John Sharker — government clerk — nobody: 
John Sharker, newspaper letter writer — somebody. This 
is my carte hlanchc to levees, dinner-parties, champagne 
suppers, et cetera. ... I hate thai fellow Cecille : I hate 
him not only because he's my rival, but — I can never 
look him tliroo seconds in the face. Whenever I happen in 
his company, I always feel as if I've grown two feet shorter 
— I hate him ! and if I can, I'll crush him ! Now for 
work : In a few days there will be a call for '^pistols and 
coffee for two" — or my name's not John Sharker ! [/Sea^s 
himself at desk to write, ivhen his eye falls upon a newS' 
paper before him, ichich he snatches up suddenli/.\ 



Scene III.'] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. ^1 

Hallo! what the Devil is this? [^Reads."] "It is a 
well-known fact that a number of Government clerks in 
the Departments are employed as better writers^ by vari- 
ous newspapers throughout the country: This practice 
leads to many abuses and much public evil. The clerks 
not only often neglect their official duties to attend to 
their private correspondence, but there are cases where, 
availing themselves of their peculiar facilities, they have 
purloined secret information of great moment and import- 
ance to the Grovernment. We are much gratified to learn 
that the Heads of the various Departments have decided 
to issue an order prohibiting any clerk hereafter from 
holding correspondence with any public newspaper.'' 
[propping the paper suddenli/.'] Othello's occupation 
gone, by thunder! must stop my correspondence or lose 
my office — that's a choice between the ^^ frying-pan and 
the fire." However, the order is not issued yet — I have 
a shot still left in the " locker" — and now for a charge ! 
[ Writes.] 

Scene III. — Room in Col. Delaney^s liouse — Col. D. 

seated. 

Col. Belaney. Had I but myself to care for, I might 
bear this blow without a murmur — I am old — want but 
little — and that little for only a short while — but Emma 
— my darling child ! She is just blooming into lovely 
womanhood — just entering society with all those accom- 
plishments that must secure her a brilliant position in life 
— and now to be deprived of all those facilities she natu- 
rally expects — to lose caste among her associates — to be 
dragged down to sheer poverty — oh ! it is too dreadful \ 
too dreadful ! How can I let her know the true state of 
things \Emma is heard without, singing] ah ! there is 
her bird-like voice — chirping as gayly as if her young 
heart had never known a sorrow. 

Enter Emma. 

Emma. Ha ! ha ! ha ! oh, pa ! I've got such glorious 
news ! Col. Cecille called this morning, and engaged to 
take me to the House to-day to hear him speak — and also 



32 



FASHIONS AND FOLLIES 



[Act IT. 



insists that I shall honor him with my company at the 
grand inauguration ball ! oh yes! and having beard about 
my new piano yesterday, he has just presented me with a 
magnificent set of music — waltzes — polkas — quadrilles— 
operas— and some of your favorite old English and Scotch 
ballads — yes' !• and oh, my ! all the girls next dom- 
are so jealous because I've caught a member of Congress 
for a beau ! ha ! ha ! ha ! but bless me ! what's the mat- 
ter, pa ! Why, how can you look so down, after hearing all 
this good news ? are you sick, dear pa ? 

Col. D. Oh no, my dear — that is — I can't say that I 
feel very well this morning — but it will soon wear off — 
soon wear off — I'm very glad to hear your news, Emma 
^-very glad to see you so happy, my darling. 

Emma. Pa ! there is something wrong — a feeling here 
tells me so. [^Places her hand over her heart. '\ There is no use 
in concealing — I know it ! Have you not confidence enough 
in your own daughter to trust her ? Dear pa, tell me all 
— I am strong enough — indeed I am — to help to bear 
your burdens. 

Col. D. Emma, my child ! I'd rather not — I did not 
intend to distress you — but — Fve lost my office ! 

Emma, Lost your office ! 

Col. D. Yes, my dear — that villain Sharker has suc- 
ceeded in having me removed, and has got my place. 

Emma. Sharker ! — Gracious Heaven I the wretch who 
has tormented me with his attentions for the last twelve 
months ; that has crawled like a snake at my feet — and 
now, that I have spurned him, would sting us to death ! . . , 
Father — dear father — don^t give way to this trouble — 'tis 
a dreadful blow — but do not sink under it — you have 
many blessings yet left you — ^indeed you have — there are 
many kind friends willing and able to assist you — you 
have a devoted daughter's love to sustain you, and a mer- 
ciful Father over us all ! 

Col. D. My dear Emma ! my brave, noble darling ! 
you are a true woman ! am- I not rich with such a treas- 
ure ? Yes, yes, I will not yield — I will rally — and I am 
sure all will turn out for the best. 

Emma. That's a ^od, dear father ! — and now, that 
we've talked the matter over, the 



next thing 



IS action. 



Scene III.'] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 33 

What is to be done ? Will you not make an effort to get 
your office back ? — such things are often done. 

Col. D. Oh, yes— I have already been round and mus- 
tered up all my friends who have any influence — I have 
done all I could do under the circumstances. 

Emma. That's right, pa — and now for my part. If 
Col. Cecille were only on the right side of the administra- 
tion I am sure we could enlist him in our behalf — as it is, 
he can be of no avail. There is General Blane who rep- 
resents the Secretary's district in Congress — and is said to 
have great influence — I will go immediately and see him 
myself — and tho' a stranger, I shall plead to him as only 
a daughter can plead — and if he has a human heart with- 
in him he will listen to my prayer. 

Col. D. Oh no ! dear Emma — you must not think of 
such a thing — a young girl like you to face an utter 
stranger — a member of Congress too — no, no ! it would 
be exposing yourself too much — you might even be sneered 
at by the world. 

Emma. Father ! there is a voice here that tells me I 
must go ! Sneered at? I have a pure conscience as a 
rock to sustain me, and I care not that ! [ Gestimi] for the 
senseless sneers of a heartless world ! 1 will go ! 

\^Ex{t Emma. 

Col. D. Just like her poor, dear grandfather — once con- 
vinced that he was right, and an earthquake couldn't move 
him. 

Enter CoL. Cecille. 

Col. C. Ah, Col. Delaney, your servant- — I have just 
called to take your charming daughter to the H use. 

Col. D. Ah, yes; she spoke of having mac ^ the en- 
gagement, but I regret to say that circumstance" have oc- 
curred to prevent — to be candid, sir, we are in great 
trouble here this morning, by reason of my ha ^ng been 
dismissed from office. 

Col. C. Is it possible ! I am truly pained to \ ear this. 
My dear Col. you know my political relations a^^e not of 
a kind to make me directly available, but believe me, 



34 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES lActlL 

whatever assistance I can render you, will be given with 
the greatest pleasure. 

Col D. Col. Cecille, I thank you, sir — sincerely thank 
you. 

JEntei' Capt. Smith. 

Caj)t. S'. Don't anybody speak to me ! don't anybody 
speak to me ! 

Col. Cecille. Why, Captain, what is the difficulty ? 

Capt. S. Oh, Col. Cecille — I beg your pardon — I'm an 
old brute — but notwithstanding, don't anybody speak 
to me. Blood and thunder ! what a wretched experiment 
this world is — what a low, dirty, small potatoe place for any 
white man to live in! if it is'nt — Fll sicalloiv iniy head! 
. . . Called on his Secretary-ship — stated my case — told 
him my antecedents — sate by his own father twenty years 
ago in Congress — exposed the rascality of Sharker — put 
the case so close as not to leave a rat-hole to creep out of 
— and after all, he gave me a flat refusal in my very teeth ! 
Said he had reason to believe that Col. Delany had com- 
mitted himself grossly on political subjects — that he found 
Sharker a very efficient and energetic public officer — that 
there were many cases before him having a stronger claim up- 
on his sympathies than that of Delaney's — and wound up by 
saying that he would promise, in case of a vacancy, that 
he would consider Col. Delaney as a candidate. I told 
him he and his promises might go to the Devil, and left 
his room — the cold-hearted, petrified monster ! 

Col. Cecille. Can Nothing more be done in this matter } 

Capt. S. Nothing, sir, unless you wise legislators will 
strike at the root of the evil. 

Col. C. How so ? 

Capt. S. Why, here is the whole matter in a nut-shell : 
Thousands of men are seduced from their homes by the 
demoralizing enticements of office. They come to Wash- 
ington, and many of them, after wasting their time and 
means, go back worse than they came — a few are ^<nfor- 
tunate enough to secure appointments. They settle down 
tere — break all their old ties and associations — forego all 
opportunities of advancing themselves in active business 



Scene III.] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 35 

pursuits — devote their time and talents to their office, with 
barely compensation enough to educate their children and 
pay their doctors bill — and then — ^with all the ripe expe- 
rience of years, after having mastered every detail of the 
office, but totally unfitted for any other active pursuit — • 
many of them without trade or profession — at the end of 
a few years, I say, they are politely kicked out and sent to 
the Devil ! Yes, sir, hundreds of young men would glad- 
ly assume the responsibilities of a family, would build up 
homes — enlarge and beautify our city — but feeling no se- 
curity — not knowing at what time the political guillotine 
may chop their heads ofi" — they become reckless, adopt the 
motto of ''live while we can^' — and dissipate their little 
means in the various excitements of the day. Yes, sir ! 
and in this continual ''change-about" the Government suf- 
fers as well as the clerk — why, sir, the most menial occu- 
pation in life requires some kind of apprenticeship — but 
any man who has party influence to back him can assume 
the most responsible public trusts, altho' he hasn't an ounce 
of brains in his head. Yes, sir! that's the whole of it! 
if it isn't — I'll swalloiu my head! 

Col. C. That is a strong picture you have drawn, Cap- 
tain — and no doubt there is much reality in it. 

Capt. S. Reality ! look at that old man : there's reali- 
ty for you — his very eyesight is impaired, not by the touch 
of age, but by intense application after business hours — 
poring over Grovernment accounts and reports at two and 
three o'clock in the morning, without a cent of extra pay. 
Reality ? why, sir, since this diabolical system of rotation in 
the petty offices has been commenced, I tell you that more 
domestic tragedies have been enacted in Washington city 
than would fill a whole volume of Shakespeare in small 
print ! yes, sir 1 I think you honorable legislators had bet- 
ter take a lesson of "charity at home" from old John Bull 
— with all his faults, he has the merit of taking care of his 
own ! Don't turn his servants out like cattle, to starve in 
their old age ! 

Col. C. But, Captain, how is it that this doctrine of ro- 
tation was publicly sanctioned, if not originated, by Gen. 
Jackson, whom all you good Democrats worship as a demi- 
god. 



86 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES [J.C< IL 

Ckipt. S. This, sir, was the only blunder he ever made 
— no man's an angel. God Almighty never intended Glen. 
Jackson for an angel — it's right as it is — but, sir. Gen. 
Jackson was driven into it by the political bloodhounds 
that were night and day on his track — had they not hunted 
down both his political and private reputation, he never 
would have started this game on them. Served them right, 
sir — served them right I — but the necessity of the case no 
longer exists, and the evil ought to be remedied. 

Col. C. Your views are very plausible, Captain, but al- 
low me to put a case in point : suppose you were more or 
less indebted to a friend for his personal exertions in se- 
curing your election — could you give him the cold shoul- 
der — could you refuse him an appointment in return for 
his services? 

Capt. S. There, sir ! you have touched the right spot ! 
the evil here is a political cancer — ^you must cut deep to get 
at the root. I tell you, sir, that this whole system of spoils 
is a festering sore upon our body politic — it has turned poli- 
tics into a trade, and our whole country into a political 
faro-bank — it tempts men into all kinds of low, dirty 
trickery — votes are bought and sold like butchers meat in 
the shambles. I tell you, sir, that the time is coming when 
politicians, instead of buying their places with false bribes, 
bad whisky, and rotten promises, will have to wait until 
the people invite them. This political leap-year, reversing 
the order of nature, will soon come to a close, and then, 
instead of the candidates inviting the people, the people 
will invite the candidates, invite them without money and 
without price, as a reward for their worth and talents — 
and when that time comes (God grant it may come soon) 
you will see our halls of legislation filled with the honesty 
and worth and talent of the land ! Yes, sir — if you don't — 
I'll swalloio my head! 

Enter Emma, very hurriedly. 

Col. D. Why, Emma, my child, back so soon ? 
Emma. \_Seeing Col. Cecille.~\ I beg your pardon, CoL 
Cecille — I did not perceive you when I entered. 



Scene III.'] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 87 

<Jol. C. No apology, Miss Emma, no apology. 

(yol. D. Emma, what is the matter — why so agitated 
my dear ? 

Emma. Will Col. Cecille be kind enough 4!p excuse our 
company this morning? 

Got. C. Certainly, Miss Emma— anything that may be 
agreeable to you — [aside to Emma] — but pardon me one 
word : your father has just acquainted me with all — ^be- 
lieve me, I would not intrude upon your domestic sorrows 
— but my dear Miss Emma — if there is any assistance I 
can render — if you can trust me as a friend — I am entirely 
at your service. 

Emma. Yes — ^you ajre a true friend — I can trust you ! 

•Cdl. <7. [^Taking her hand.] Thanks i dear Emma, 
thanks ! 

Emma. You will call again, soon. 

Col. C. I will — this evening- — good morning; gentle- 
men, your servant. [Exit Col. C] 

[Emma walks violently/ to and fro. 

Capt. S. Emma, there is something wrong — how flush- 
•ed she appears. Tell me, my darling, tell your old god- 
father, what is it that troubles you? 

Emma. Captain — Father-I have bjeen insulted-grossly 
shamefully insulted. 

Col. D. Merciful Heaven ! 

Capt. S. Insulted ? who dare insult my pet— my god- 
daughter ? 

Col. D. Explain — explain — tell your father all. 

Emma. I called, as I determined, on Gen. Blane. He 
received me at first with marked attention — professed great 
sympathy — made every promise — and then like a venom- 
ous reptile he sought to blast my honor — he made dis- 
honorable advances to— to your daughter. 

[Falls on her father^ s breast. 

Col. D. Merciful God! 

Capt. S. The damned scoundrel ! 

Emma. Oh, heavens ! if I only had a brother— -if my 
poor, dear Willy were only alive, he would see me righted ! 

Col. D. Jack, I'm a poor, weali old man — broken — quite 
broken in spirit an-d strength — but this blow has driven 



38 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES lAct III. 

me mad ! By Heaven ! I'll blow the villain's brains out ! 

Emma. Oh, no, no! dear father I 'tis not so bad as that 
— forgive my foolish temper — I have exaggerated — oh, 
don't give way to your feelings so, dear father ! — indeed, 
it will soon pass over — let us forget it all. 

Capt. S. Ned, dear Ned, my heart's too full to speak — 
the damned scoundrel ! Ned, you have a family — I have 
none — no ties — I'll call him out — I'll fight him — I'll shoot 
him! 

Emma. What ! a duel ? gracious God, no ! Uncle Jack, 
I say no ! it shall not be ! — I will not have one drop gf 
human blood on my soul to answer for ! There are other 
means of redress, if necessary. He can be brought to the 
bar of a righteous public opinion, and consigned to infamy. 
Besides, after all, it may have been a mere mistake on his 
part. These public men are so exposed — so surrounded 
by all sorts of people, he may have mistaken my true char- 
acter and position. I may have exaggerated the wholo 
matter — so now, dear father and Uncle Jack, let us, for 
the present, drop this foolish aflfair. 

Capt. S. You are right, my noble Emma. I like your 
argument — you are right! 

Emma. And now the question is, what is to be done for 
poor father? 

Col. D. Alas ! dear child, I fear nothing can be done — 
every efi"ort I have made has failed. 

Emma. But, father, something inust be done ! and, if 
there is a just God in heaven, something shall be done! 
Let me see : I have it — Uncle Jack, you are our friend ? 

Capt. JS. I am ! 

Emma. Now prove it ! — I will rent a large house now 
vacant on the avenue — purchase furniture, and open a 
Congress boarding-house — you will advance the necessary 
amount? 

Capt. S. I will — name the sum. 

Emma. Eight hundred dollars. 

Capt. S. Good! here's my check for the amount. 

[ Writes check. 

Emma. Now, we have the fairest prospects — plenty of 
fiieuJs to aid us in filling the house. I will superintend 



Scene /.] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 39 

everything. If this fails, I will give music lessons, or do 
fancy work, or take a school, or — I tell you, father, there 
is a just God in heaven, and something shall be done! 

Capt. S. Bravo! my brave girl, bravo! Why, Ned, 
you're a blind old fool to talk about poverty, with such a 
treasure as that ! You might melt Joan of Arc and Cleo- 
patra together in one mass, and then not be able to mould 
an Emma Delaney out of the composition! Emma, my 
dear, I must leave you now, but I will call to-night, and 
we'll talk the whole matter over — good bye ! good bye, 
Ned. [^Aside.'] If she ain't a whole team of a woman, 
ni swallow TYiy head! 

Col. D. My noble, noble Emma ! my darling child ! 

[Embraces Her: 

END OB ACT II. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. — Private Office — Boom as he/ore. 

Sharker seated at writing desk. 

Sharker. Again I say, '^pistols and coffee for two," or 
my name's not John Sharker ! Sent off a slashing letter 
to New-York yesterday — fell like a bomb-shell in the 
House to-day! whew! kicked up as great a muss^as a red 
flag in a Spanish bull-fight ! Previous question will prob- 
ably come up on Monday — then reef your topsails and. 
look out for a big squall ! You've played your cards hand- 
somely, John Sharker; you're a keen sportsman; but you 
havn't "bagged your game" yet. That old fox, Delaney, 
has dodged in another hole — must "smoke him out!" 
Called on his Virginian majesty after his fall, to condole 
with him, and assure him of my innocence in the matter — 
offered him pecuniary assistance as a proof — spurned me 
and my offer — too much of a diplomatist to be bluffed off 
with trifles — could afford to wait until the old chap got 
lower down the ladder. But now he has feathered his nest 



40 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES- \_Act III. 

anew — opened a Congress boarding-house^ and doing a 
thriving business — checkmated there.. That's not all, 
either— ;- got awfully burnt at faro last night — had the 
damndest luck for the last week — a crowd of heavy purses 
expected to-morrow night — big haul to be made — must 
raise the money or die in the attempt ! If I can get Sly 
to negotiate that note, all will be right. It's full time for 
him to be here — guess Til bait my hook. [^Brings out 
brandy bottle.'} 

Enter Sly. 

Sly. How de do, squire? 

Sharker. Ah! Bill, you are just in time — ^I was wish- 
ing for some one to keep me company in a glass of brandy, 
as I hate to drink alone. 

Sly. Thanky, squire, Fm quite agreeable — don't care if 
I do. [ They drinh.'] 

Sharker. Well, Bill, have you heard anything of the 
Pelaneys since they opened boarding-house ? 

Sly. Heard anything? prehaps I have! knows every 
move been made on the board. 

Sharker. Indeed! 

Sly. Why, you see my daughter Sally goes to the Col.'s 
wery often, to do sewin, and help about the house. 

Sharker. Ah, ha! that's the trail, is it? Sly, you^re a 
great man — go ahead. 

Sly. Well, Col. Cecille and old Capt. Smith have gone 
to work and filled their house full of boarders for 'em. 
There's a dashin widow — I forgets her name — is dyin in 
love with Col. Cecille; and there's old Mrs. Bangs wants 
to catch him for her daughter; but Sally says that the 
Col. wouldn't give Miss Emma for the whole batch of 'em 
— says she believes they are engaged to be married. 

Sharker. What! engaged to be married? 

Sly. So Sally says, and Sally's a sharp gal, I tell you — 
takes arter her daddy — only she don't 'quire any licker to 
sharpen her idees, as I do. 

Sharker. Help yourself. Bill — make yourself at home. 

Sly. I'm 'bleeged to you, squire — I'm agreeable. 

[^Drinks 



Scend /.] OP WASAINGTON LIFE. 41 

Sharker. Now, what else, Bill? 

Sly. Well, as you's sitch a lawyer, I suppose you've 
hearn of the muss that was kicked up Hween Miss Emma 
and Grinul Blane? 

Sharker. Oh, yes! I dealt the cards — that was one of 
my tricks — I calculated that Greneral Blane would be the 
first they would call upon, being from the Secretary's dis- 
trict, and having great influence — so I posted him before- 
hand — gave him to understand that she was Cecille's par- 
ticular friend— ^ "over the left" and was easi/ game — ha! 
ha! 

Sly. My eyes ! squire, but you would 'a made a great 
lawyer — Bill Sly ain't a tetch to you — well, as I was goin 
for to say. Col. Cecille he got wind of the pauss 

Sharker. That's my trick too. 

Sly. My eyes ! 

Sharker. Gro ahead. 

Sly. Well, he calls on Grinul Blane to explain matters — 
the Grinul, he kind of blufiied him off, but wound up arter- 
ards by makin a handsome apology to Miss Emma and 
the old man. 

Sharker. Indeed ! that's turning up a new card. How- 
ever, the affair has worked pretty well so far — served to 
keep the old sore running between Blane and Cecille — and 
I'll tell you a great secret. Sly; but, on your soul, you 
mus'n't whisper it even to your shadow. 

Sly. If I do, may I never swallow another glass of 
grog! 

Sharker. As sure^as your name is Bill Sly, in a few 
days there'll be a regular "set to" between these two Hon. 
game cocks ! 

Sly. Lor! squire, you don't say so! 

Sharker. There was a hot debate in the House to-day— 
they showed their spurs very plain — mark me — by the 
time the previous question's taken, there'll be a call of 
"pistols and coffee for two!" But we'll change the sub^ 
ject now, and talk about something of more importance — 
money I 

Sly. I'm agreable to that, squire — next to good licker 
there's nothin tetches nearer my heart than that ere article. 



42 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES [^C^ ///. 

Sharl-er. Sly, if you are a true friend of John Sharker's, 
I want you to prove it now. 

Sly. I'm a^eeable to that, squire. 

Sharker. I've got involved in a heavy speculation (out- 
side business, you know;) my cash is all out — hands and feet 
tied. It is absolutely necessary for me to raise three hun- 
dred dollars by to-morrow night. You are my man — my 
very and only man to do it. Now, my plan is this : In 
the first place, I am known as the "Governor's favorite" — 
an intimate personal friend of the Secretary's. Again, 
messengers have a better reputation for saving salaries than 
clerks — many people think you are better off than you 
appear to be. Now, then, you will loan me three hundred 
dollars — over the left; I will give you my note with the 
Secretary's endorsement -^oi'er the left; you know I can 
write any hand, from a copperplate down to John Quincy 
Adams or Rufus Choate — you will get the note cashed 
without difficulty. In three days' time I shall have a pile 
of " ready" to the amount of at least one thousand dollars. 
Your fee will be fifty dollars in hard gold. I will take up 
the note immediately, and no one be any the wiser for it. 

Sly. [^After reading the note slowly.^ Squire, I can't 
say I feel quite agreeable to that 'ere 'rangement — mout 
git my fingers burnt by handlin the fire. 

Sharker. Burnt? the devil! there's no danger of fire; 
and if it does break out, it can't reach you. I'm the re- 
sponsible man in the matter — the law can't reach you — I 
make the note — you are only the holder — the endorsee. 
Get your fingers burnt? nonsense, man, nofisense! Bill 
Sly ! I swear to you solemnly, on my honor as a man and ai 
gentleman — as sure as the sun rises to-morrow, within three 
days from this hour I'll redeen* that note ! 

Sly. Squire, I'll cornsider on that 'ere 'rangement. I 
don't care if I take another drop or two of brandy, jest 
to clair away my idees. 

Sharker. That's right,. Bill, help yourself ! \_Sly pours 
out.'] Why, you don't call that a drink for a man of your 
size and inches? bah! it wouldn't make a foot-bath for a 
flea — look at this I \_I\)urs mit a half of tuniblei^}'\ and I 
know you're a better man than myself. 

Sly. AVell, squire, so the qxiality's right, I'm always 



Scene I.'] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 43 

agreeable to the quantity — as the beggar said when he got 
a dollar for a five cent piece. [Pours out more brandy. 
Sharker pours out a part of his glass secretly under the 
table; after which, they drink. ^ 

Sly. My eyes! that 'ere brandy's like its master — the 
more I knows of it, the more I likes it ! 

Sharker. Well, Bill, all I've got to say is, that I don't 
believe that Bill Sly is a man to stand by and see a friend 
fall in the ditch without lending a helping hand to get him 
out. I tell you, solemnly, I am in that ditch now ! and if 
you don't hold out your hand to save me — I'm a ruined 
man! 

Sly. Squire — it — it — 'taint no use ! there's my hand — 
Bill Sly's agreeable — nuff said ! 

Sharker. That's a noble fellow ! you're a man, every 
inch of you ! Bill Sly ! with my education and advan- 
tages, I would give $10,000 to have the headwork you 
have got on your shoulders. 

Sly. [^Getting drunk.'] I tell you what, squire — Bill 
Sly don't say much, but it's ther [^Pointing to his fore- 
head] — it's all ther — he ! he ! he ! If I could always have 
good licker to drink, ther aint a man in the United States 
would have sitch [^Hiccup] clair idees ! 

Sharker. By the way, that reminds me of a present I 
have for you [Brings out brandy-bottle] — here it is — the 
identical brand — a child of the same family as that [Point- 
ing to bottle on table.] 

Sly. My eyes I squire — but I feel 'greeable all over to 
that ! [Takes the bottle, and puts it carefully in his pocket.] 

Sharker. Well now, to close up the business, here's 
the note, and remember — mum's the word. [Placing fin- 
ger on his lijfs.] 

Sly. All right, squire — mum ! [Imitates Sharker ;] and 
I say, squire, [ Taking out bottle,] if this here family should 
get too num'rous — and you're got any to spare, I'll be ther 
adopted father ! he ! he ! he ! 

Sharker. Ha ! ha ! ha ! all right — ^I'll remember you 
— ^good night ! [Exit Sly. 

Sharker. Now for the "hop" at old Delaneys to-night : 
Knew he'd rather see the Devil than myselfat his house — 
took particular pains to get an " invite " from old Bangs — - 



44 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES [Act III. 

couldnH refuse me^wrote a speech for him last week — 
he pocketed the fame and I pocketed the $50 note — even 
bargain : and now for a triumph ! That old federal rat, 
Delaney, shall find out that John Sharker is somebody : 
that he can get a ^'bid'' from a member of Congress to his 
own house : that he can aflford to kick him out of office, and 
go to his parties and feast on his good things afterwards — ha ! 
ha ! .... John Sharker, you're a villain ! I know it ; 
who made me so ? the world : then let the world father 
its own ; those that sow the wind must reap the whirl- 
wind ! Left the country, fifteen years ago, an honest, 
open-hearted boy — joined the church — did what I thought 
was right — so help me God ! Got a place in a dry goods 
store : One day the proprietor caught me in the act of 
telling a — truth to a customer about the price of an arti- 
cle — wanted me to lie — must lie or lose my place — God 
on one side, devil on the other : Sided with the devil — 
never changed my locality since ! Became a fast clerk — 
then a drummer, at a full salary, to hook up country cus- 
tomers, and take 'em around to see the '^elephant,'' Try- 
ing to bite others, got bit myself — became a gambler and 
a sot — got kicked out of my place — went home — tried 
politics — got an office — and here I am ! the same John 
Sharker, with the same bloodhounds of evil appetites and 
bad habits still preying on me. ... And yet, amid all this 
foetid atmosphere of hell, one faint glimmer of Heaven is 
still left : Umma, Emma Delaney I I love that woman 
to madness ! I love her when I have ceased to love 
myself ! I believe in her — I believe in her when I have 
lost all faith in God or man ! There is something in her 
strange eyes which, like a magic mirror, reflects back the 
lost purity of my own youth ! I feel that she is the only 
being on earth who can redeem me — who can raise me up 
to a higher and a better life. My God ! she must be 
mine 1 she shall be mine ! [^Exit 



Scene III.'] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 45 

Scene II.-*Pm6?ic Street — -Noalland Sharpsteel meeting. 

Koall. Hallo ! Sharpsteel, which way ? 

Sharp. Tm just striking a ''bee-line" to Cecille's 
boarding house — haven't you heard of the ''hop" that is 
to come off to-night? 

Noall. Oh yes; know all about it — got an "invite." 

Sharp. By the way, Noall, have you heard of the very 
sudden and unexpected marriage of our friend Cecille 
with some dashing widow — ^I forget her name. 

Noall. Oh yes; know all about ife. 

Sharp. lAside.] That's a lie ! 

Noall. Mrs. Singleton you allude to: sharp woman — 
has all the "points'^ — floored me once completely — ^know 
all about her ! Game has turned out precisely as I antici- 
pated. Widows are dangerous weapons — perfect hair 
triggers — "touch and go." Knew she'd drill a hole 
through Cecille's heart before he had his eyes open! Saw 
every trick she played — ^know all about it, sir. No doubt 
the "hop" to-night is in honor of the wedding couple. 

Sharp. Indeed ? then I suppose you'll be on hand ? 

Noall. Oh yes, at 10 o'clock — the usual hour for gentle- 
men of fashion like myself — until then — au revoir ! [^Exit. 

Sharp. And if you do come, you'll find yourself "sold" 
for once in your life. Ha ! ha ! [Bxit. 

Scene in. — Parlor in Col. Delaney^s Boarding House-^ 
Company in full dresSy seated. 

Sharker conversing loith Mrs. and Miss Bangs — Emm A 
Delaney receiving marked attention from tico gentle- 
men, friends of Col. Cecille — CoL. C. and Mrs. Sin- 
gleton ac?i?awce in front. 

Col. Cecille. I declare, Mrs. Singleton, you are deter- 
mined to be perfectly irresistible this evening : it is hardly 
fair to avail yourself of so many weapons against poor, 
weak, male humanity. 

3h's. Singleton. Ah ! Col., you politicians are so accus- 
tomed to blarney the "dear people" — I will pardon your 
flattery on the ground oi— -force of habit 1 ha ! ha ! ha ! 



46 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES \_Act III. 

Besides, you will please bear in mind that I am to meet a 
foeman to-night " worthy of my steel/' 

Col. C. Oh, yes, I remember, and I perceive you are 
armed cap a pie for the conflict. 

Mrs. S. And yet, after all, I'm a poor marksman — ^hit 
everything but the mark I aim at — \^Aside ;] there's a hint 
for him ! By the by, what is the name of this gallant 
sir knight who is to try his lance with me this evening ? 

Col. G. Mr. Sharpsteel. 

3Irs. S. Sharpsteel ? then I suppose the article is well 
tempered ; and if so, we shall agree without difficulty. 

Enter Sharpsteel. 

Col. C. Prepare yourself for the combat — here he 
comes — excuse me for entering at once upon the prelimi- 
naries. [^Introduces Mrs. Singleton and Sharpsteel j both 
of whom salute very profoundly. "] 

Mrs. S. I]xcuse me, sir — are you a — Colonel ? 

Col. C. [Aside."] She has opened her fire already — 
'^ when Greek meets Greek, " et cetera. 

Sharpsteel. I have not that honor. 

Mrs. S. Not even by curtesy ? 

Sharp. Not even by curtesy. Will you allow me a 
question ? 

Mrs. S. Oh, certainly, sir ! we ladies are unlike politi- 
cal candidates — [Looking significantly at Col. Cecille ;] we 
are always "open to the question;" ha! ha! 

Sharp. Did I understand my friend to introduce you as 
Miss Singleton or Mrs. Singleton ? 

Mrs. S. Mrs. Singleton, sir. 

Sharp. Then you are not a miss? 

Mrs. S. Well, I should imagine not, sir. 

Sharp. Not even '' by curtesy ?" 

Mrs. S. and Col. C. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Col. C. [Aside.] Charley, you're a trump ! — a few more 
broadsides like that, and she'll strike her colors ! 

Mrs. S. Keally, Mr. Sharpsteel, you are such an adept 
at cross-examination, I am tempted to ask another ques- 
tion — will you excuse my impertinent curiosity ? 

Sharp. Certainly, madam — 'tis the universal failing of 
your sex. 



Scene III.^ OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 47 

3Irs. S. Thauk you — then, are you a lawyer ? 

Sharp. Only half a one. 

Mrs. S. Half a one ? pray what kind is that ? 

Sharp. A lawyer without practice, madam. The law- 
yer himself is only half — his practice — the other, and 
" better half. " 

3frs. S. Ah ! a kind of matrimonial arrangement ? ha ! 
ha ! well, I am disappointed. I mistook you for an ex- 
perienced lawyer — or, to avail myself of your definition— 
a whole lawyer. 

Sharp. So I was, madam — but I had the misfortune 
to lose my practice. 

3Irs. S. Indeed ? Then I presume you are trying to 
recover your practice to-night? 

Sharp. I would, if T had a case. 

Mrs. S. A case ? oh, you should never want for that>— 
you're a perfect ^^case" yourself- — ha ! ha ! 

Col. C. Ha ! ha ! ha ! [^Aside.'] Lookout Charley, the 
tables are turning I 

Sharp. ^Aside.'] Confound the woman — she^s as sharp 
as a No. 6 needle. One word in reply, madam — you must 
know that lawyers are like doctors — they never like to 
practice on themselves. 

Mrs. S. Ha! ha! ha! Col., I see I shall have to 
brighten up my wits. Mr. Sharpsteel, you say you have 
lost your practice — are you sure that you ever had any to 
lose? 

Sharp. Quite sure of it, madam, quite sure of it. Had 
an extensive one when I left home, but I have been de- 
tained here so long by the attractions of metropolitan life, 
that I fear I am in the same predicament as yourself. 

3frs. S. How so? 

Sharp. I have lost my ^' better half. '' 

Col C. Ha ! ha ! ha ! lAside.'] Oh, murder ! Charley, 
you've struck a vital part ! 

Mi's. S. Col,, your friend is certainly the most remark- 
able specimen of the gemis homo which I have met in the 
whole "menagerie" — I think I had better "beat a re- 
treat" in time to "cover my wounded V 

Col. C. Oh, no ! Stick to your colors like a true heroine"! 



48 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES \^Act III. 

Shai'p. [^Aside.'] That's an easy matter when they are 
well riihbed in. [^Pointing to his cheek.~\ 

Col. G. Never give up the ship, madam — nail your 
colors to the mast. 

Sharp. \_Aslde.'] They are nailed there already ! Well, 
Mrs. Singleton, let me hope that this gallant ^' passage at 
arms" may be the prelude to a more cordial acquaintance. 
It is so rare a treat to meet with such a combination ctf 
wit, beauty, and intelligence — really, you must allow your 
Washington friends to appropriate you for the entire 
season, as an invaluable condiment to the milk-and-water 
small-talk and insipid monotony of our fashionable cir- 
cles. 

Mrs. S. Oh ! Mr. Sharpsteel, you do me too much 
honor — allow me to return the-complim-ent at compaund 
interest. Indeed, to be candid, a gentleman of your ac- 
complishments is almost as rare here, as a plain Mister 
^mong so many Colonels — ha! ha! 

Sharp. I see you are determined to outdo me in com- 
pliment. 

Mrs. S. And why should I not? you have outdone me 
in repartee — ^you will not deny me at least one triumph ; 
besides, there is not so much merit in my triumph — it is 
so very easy to compliment, Mr. Sharpsteel; almost as 
■easy as — as — telling a y?6/ ha! ha! 

Sharp. Ah ! then I am to ^understand that your com- 
pliments are like rare ornaments — to be admired, but not 
worn. 

Mrs. S. Oh, no ! you can wear them — that is — pro- 
vided they — -Jit ! 

Sharp. [Aside.'} What a tantalizing creature ! I won- 
der what she really thinks of me ? 

3Irs. S. Col., what has become of your ancient friend 
.<]apt. Smitii — ^is he a/live yet ? 

Col. C. Oh, certainly ; why do you ask the question ? 

J/?*s. S. Because the last time I saw him he was in immi- 
nent danger of sicallowing his own head ! 

Col. C. and Sharp. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Sharp. There comes his Captainship now — but his head, 
however, is evidently in its natural position. 



Scene IIL'\ OF Washington life. 49 



Enter Capt. Smith. 

Capt. S. \_Glancing at SharTcer."] What! he here? the 
impudent scoundrel ! \^Approaches Mrs. Singleton.'] Mrs. 
Singleton, your most obedient servant — going to " trip it 
on the light fantastic toe ? " 

Mi's. S. Yes, Captain, provided you will be my part- 
ner ? 

Capt. S. Oh, no ! don't believe in your modern dances 
— no ma'm. In my young days a dance was a dance, and 
no ^'make believe" — it developed the muscles — circulated 
the blood, and exhilirated the spirits. We didn't walk 
up, look each other in the face, and then walk back again 
without doing anything. We didn't bob 'up and down in 
your polkas and schottishes as if we had tlie St. Situs's 
dance in our nether extremities I no, ma'm ! your modern 
dances are like everything else now-a-days — they are bogus 
— all bogus, ma'm. Too slow in jour dances, and too fast 
in everything else! 

Mrs. S. I fear. Captain, your antiquarian predilections 
will compel us, in spite of your youthful appearance, to 
place you on the " retired list" of old fogies ! ha ! ha ! 

Oapt. S. Old fogies ? I tell you, madam, that in this 
age of inflated hum buggery and top-heavy go-aheaditive- 
ness, I glory in the title of old fogy ! If I don't — TU swal- 
low my head! Excuse my bluntness, ma'm — Jack 
Smith's a rough old soldier; the truth acts on him like 
champagne in a bottle : draw the cork, and it must pop 
out! 

Mrs. S. No apology, Captain — honesty, like charity, 
"covereth a multitude of sins" — but I trust your preju- 
dices are not so strong as to prevent your honoring us with 
your presence, at least in the dancing room? 

Capt. S. Not at all, madam, not at all — altho' I can't 
join your church, I'll make one of the congregation — and 
when I see your elegant figure distorting itself in the polka 
— violating all the laws of natural grace and poetry of mo- 
tion—I shall wish that you had been born forty years be- 
fore, when you might have found a partner, both for the 
dance and for life, who would have .been worthy to mate 
your grace and beau^ ! 



60 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES \_Act III. 

Mrs. S. Oh, Captain your compliments are overpower- 
ing. 

Capt. S. I thought so — then I'll take my leave, in order 
to facilitate your speedy recovery — [hoivSfl [aside,'\ talk 
about old fogy ism, there's gallantry of the old school for 
you — if it isn't, 77^ swallow my head I 

\_Retires to company. 

Mrs. S. Ha ! ha ! Col., your antique friend with the 
very white head and very red face reminds me of Thomp- 
son's seasons. 

Col. a Why so .? 

Mrs. S. He's a living edition of winter and summer ; 
\^points to head and face,~\ ha I ha ! ha ! 

Col. C. Pray, Mrs. Singleton, what title have you con- 
ferred on our friend Mr. Noall ? 

3Irs. S. Oh, I call him the " Washington Walking En- 
cyclopedia.^' 

Col. C. Ha ! ha ! a most appropriate title. 

Sharp. To-night's edition has not appeared yet, I be- 
lieve. 

Col. C. Oh, it will soon be issued in due form, no doubt. 

Sharp. By the way, Mrs. Singleton, I have a rich joke 
on Mr. ''Know-all-about-it" — I met him this evening, and 
asked him if he had heard of the very sudden and unex- 
pected marriage of our friend the Col., here ; he replied, 
as usual, that he ''knew all about it,'' and proceeded to 
give me the details of the whole affair. 

Mrs. S. Ha ! ha ! That is certainly most characteristic. 

Enter NoALL. 

Sharp. Ah, he has just entered — excuse me a moment. 
[_Meets and salutes Noall, and speaks aside to him.'\ 
Just in time, Noall. Is not that a blooming couple for 
you ! you ought to offer your congratulations — 'tis the eti- 
quette, you know. 

Noall. Oh yes ! — know all about it. [^Approaches Mrs. 
Singleton.'] Ah ! Mrs. Cecille, allow me to offer you my 
most cordial congratulations — altho'you have lost the single^ 
you wiil ( vcr retain the ton, [a la Francais.'] 

Mrs. S- Well, sir! what means this ill-placed jest ? ex- 



Scene III.'] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 51 

cuse me for saying that your wit has hardly point enough 
to redeem its impertinence, 

Nball. [^Con/used.'] Why madam, I — you — [turning 
to Sharpsteel,'] Mr. Sharpsteel, how is this ? 

Sharp. Oh, I " know nothing about it !'' I never told 
you they were married — I merely asked you this evening 
if you had heard the report, and you said you " knew all 
about it " — and on the strength of that, you have, with 
the kindest intentions, no doubt, offered your congratula- 
tions. 

Mrs. S. and Col. O. Ha! ha! ha! 

Mrs. S. Ah, Mr. Noall — you didn't ^' know all about it" 
this time. 

Col. Cecille. Ha ! ha ! I say, Noall, you have lost your 
^' points!^' 

Noall. Why, bless your unsophisticated souls — I — I 
was only helping to keep up the joke — had the points on 
my fingers' end — knew all about — everything about it!' 

All Ha! ha! ha! 

Mrs. S. A perfect Falstaff at getting out of a close 
corner. 

Sharp. Well, Mrs. Singleton, I trust you will, as well 
as my good friend Noall, pardon the part I have taken in 
an innocent joke — and, also honor me with your hand for. 
the first cotillion. 

Mrs. S. With pleasure, sir, provided the heart is not W 
keep its company. 

Sharp. Oh! I can afford to wait a very Jong time for" 
so rich a prize ! [Leads Mrs. Singleton to the dance in an 
adjoining room.~\ 

Col. G. I say, Noall — there's the lovely Miss Bangs, 
all alone — a fine opportunity. 

Noall. Oh, yes ! but she's verdant — hasn't the points. 

Col. C. No — but she has the dimes — plenty of fat prairie 
land — rich and easy conquest. 

Noall. Oh, ah ! indeed ? [eyes her through his glass ;] 
a blooming flower of the prairie — quite verdant — good ma- 
terial tho' — wants a little finishing — oh, I'll soon make her 
know all about it. [Engages with Miss Bangs, and escorts 
her to the dance — Col. Cecille leads in Miss Emma Dela- 
ney, with marked attention, which attracts the notice of 



52 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES ^Act IV. 

Sharker and Mrs. JBangs^-'-as the company are retiring j 
Captain S. approaches Sharker.'] 

Capt. S. Excuse me, sir; a word with you, if you please. 
[They advance in front — company retire.'] 

Sharker. Well, Captain, I am at your service — ^by the 
by, you are looking as young as when I first met you ten 
years ago. 

Capt. S. [^Looking at him sternly for some moments.] 
You infernal scoundrel ! you oily-tongued, double-faced 
hypocrite ! 

Shar. Why, what means this outrageous insult, Capt. 
Smith ? 

Capt. S. How dare you to show your face in the house 
of that man whom you have betrayed and sought to ruin ? 

Shar. Capt. Smith, I desire you to distinctly under- 
stand that I came here by invitation of the Honorable Mr. 
Bangs — a member of Congress, sir, and as good a man as 
any in the company. 

Capt. S. Look in my eye, you beast ! My name's Capt. 
Jack Smith — what I say, I do ! follow me ! or by the 
Heaven above, I'll blow you to the Devil, where you be^ 
long ! [seizes him ccmtemptuously by the nose — leads him 
out, and returns.] 

Capt. S. Jack Smith, you are right! you have done 
your duty to your friend and ta society — ^the law of your 
country couldn't descend low enough to reach such rascali- 
ty ! [Retires to dancing room,.] 

END OF ACT III. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. — Public street — Enter Sharpsteel and Nball. 

Shaypsteel. Were you in the House when Blane gave 
Cecille the lie? 

Nball. Oh yes, know all about it. Had a chronic affec- 
tion of the heart against each other since the beginning 
of the session. Hot debate yesterday — Cecille alluded to 
certain members bribing the menials of the press to do 
their dirty work outside of the House: Blane took it 



Scene 11.} of Washington life. 63^ 

up — gave Cecille the lie — repeated it with the participial 
adjective "damned" by way of postscript — that's the 
whole of it — know all about it ! 

Sharp. This is a serious matter — excuse me, Noall, I 
must learn more about it. [^Uxit. 

Nball. That chap takes to a fight as naturally as a fish 
takes to water, and my individual opinion is, if he putg 
his finger in the pie, it will have a strong taste of gun- 
powder. Don't believe in duels myself — know all about 
'em — bad diplomacy — generally got up by third parties for 
the sport — like my friends very well, but can't afford to 
turn my body into a target for their amusement. . . . Ah ! 
here comes Brown. Brown's a tailor — can't afford to cut 
him tho' — has the ^^ points" on me — owe him a big bill — 
must give him a touch of diplomacy — nothing like diplo- 
macy — great science — know all about it ! 

Enter Brown. 

Brown. Ah, Mr. Noall, do you know a Mr. Sharker ? 

Nball. Oh yes ; — sharp chap — knocked me out of $100 
at faro one night — know all about him ! ~ 

Brown. Is his paper good ? 

Noall. Wouldn't take it myself without the V's or X's 
on it. 

Brown. Well, the fact is, I've got a note of his with 
the Secretary of the Treasury's endorsement — and as I've 
just heard some hard things against the man, I want to 
satisfy myself about the endorsement. Now, as you're 
acquainted with all the big folks, I'd take it as a great 
favor if you would inquire into this matter for me. 

Noall. My dear Brown, nothing would afford me more 
pleasure than to assist an honest man like yourself under 
such cirumstances. We will call at once on the Secre- 
tary, and if he be come-at-able, I'll present the note my- 
self, and — we'll soon know all about it ! [^Exeunt. 

Scene II. — Parlor in Col. Delaney^s house as he/ore. 

Enter Mrs. Singleton. 

Mrs. S. Well ! has it come to this at last : that I, who 
have tyrannized over so many victims, should in the end 
become a victim myself ! I, who have had all the purer 



54 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES \_Act IV. 

instincts of my woman's nature crushed out of me — forced 
into a mercenary marriage, by mercenary parents, from 
mercenary motives — "sold, and got my price" — / would 
now give up all — wealth, station, life itself — all but my 
honor — to win that man's heart ! But he knows not this 
— no ! he thinks I am brilliant, but cold and passionless — 
oh, Cecille ! Cecille ! could you but break through the 
barriers of a false education, and see my real woman's na- 
ture — ^you would love me — I know you would love me ! 
And am I to be thwarted here — here, where I have poured 
forth all the smothered affections of years ? No ! he must 
be mine, and mine only ! I will not indulge this foolish 
jealousy. What ! prefer a simple, uncultivated woman — 
a mere silly school-girl — to a lady of my position and ac- 
complishments — with all the rich experience of a ripe 
womanhood ? no I it is impossible ! I cannot, will not, 
believe it ! 

, : Ente?' Mrs. Bangs. 

Mrs. B. Ah, Mrs. Singleton, I was jest lookin for you; 
I declare I never seen anything like the bare-faced im- 
^ic^-dence of these boarding-house keepers — there's that 
pert upstart, Emma Delaney, actually thinks herself as 
good as a member of Congress's daughter ! Sets herself 
up in the parlor, and takes up all Col. Cecille's time to 
herself — I never seen sitch im-pit?-dence in all my life. 

Mrs. S. Indeed, my dear Mrs. Bangs, this girl is of so 
little consequence, she has scarcely attracted my attention 
— these little annoyances are common, you know, in all 
boarding-houses. It is probable, too, that the CoL is 
"making believe" to her, only to draw out somebody 
else — ha ! ha I 

Mrs. B. Well, it really does look like it; for it is on- 
possible that a member of Congress could ever think of 
looking down on a mere boarding-house keeper's daugh- 
ter. 

Mrs. S. Very true. By the by, Mrs. Bangs, we are 
making up a party for the levee to-night — will you not 
join us ? 

Mrs. B. Certingly — the very thing I was goin to^r- 
pose myself. 



Scene IL'\ of Washington life. 55 

Mrs. S. I have just had a new dress completed for the 
occasion — oh, it's a perfect love of a dress ! 

3Irs. B. My ! You don't say so ! how I should like to 
take a look at it. 

Mrs. S. Indeed ? then come with me to my room, and I 
will show it to you. [^Exeunt Mrs. S. and B. 

Enter Emma Delaney, with a looTc of deep dejection. 

Emma. Heavens ! what a life I am doomed to drag out 
— nothing but work, work — from morning until night — 
but this is not all — labor of the body I could bear without 
a murmur — but to have the most sacred feelings of my 
nature continually lacerated by the treatment of these two 
women : the coarse insolence of one, and the overbearing 
pride of the other. And yet I dare not murmur — my 
poor old father depends on them for his bread — I am but 
a mere boarding-house keeper's daughter. Oh, Heaven \ 
that I should be doomed to such a life ! . . . And I was 
foolish enough, in my girlish dreams, to picture him as a 
lover — he, a member of Congress, with wealth and posi- 
tion to command the proudest match in the land — ^yes — 
and that brilliant, gifted, but false-hearted woman using 
all her wily arts to entrap him — and I a poor hoarding' 
house keeper's daughter — oh, fool ! fool ! 

Enter CoL. Cecille. 

CoL C. Good morning. Miss Emma; we missed the 
pleasure of your company at breakfast this morning — 
were you indisposed ? 

Emma. I thank you. Col., yes; I have felt quite un- 
well — it may be a cold — I trust I shall soon be better. 

Col. C. If it be a cold, it must be quite a stubborn one, 
for I have noticed that your health has been impaired foi 
some time past. I fear the duties of your present posi- 
tion have proved too great a burden for you. 

Emma. '\^With a faint smile. 2 Oh, well — I trust I 
shall, after a while, become acclimated. You are looking 
uncommonly well yourself. Col. 

Col. C. Ah, indeed ? Mrs. Singleton has just antici- 
pated you in that compliment. 



56 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES ^Act IV. 

Emma. Mrs. Singleton ? oh, of course — she is a lady 
of taste, and her opinion of your jpersonelle is already well 
known. 

Col. C. Indeed ? ha ! ha ! By the way, have you 
heard that we were going to be married ? 

Emma. Married ? no ! I have not heard that ! 

Col. C. \^Aside.'] If I could only be convinced that she 
loves me for myself, and not for my wealth or station. 
Miss Emma, you must know that I have great confidence 
in your good judgment and sincerity of character. 

Emma. Oh ! you compliment me too highly, sir. 

Col. C. Will you allow me, as a friend, to speak frankly 
to you ? 

Emma. Certainly, Col. — and I trust I shall prove wor- 
thy of the confidence. 

Col. C. Your natural perceptions of character, together 
with your daily associations with Mrs. Singleton, qualify 
you for a correct judgment in the matter : do you feel im- 
pressed, from your knowledge of her character, that she 
is fitted to make me happy as her husband ? 

Emma. Col. Cecille, this is a delicate question, which 
would give me pain to answer — you will please excuse 
me. 

Col. C Miss Emma, I assure you, honestly, that noth- 
ing is farther from my desire than to give pain to one 
whom I esteem so highly — but, as I before remarked, I 
have the utmost confidence in your judgment — and this is 
a question which involves my happiness for life — I will, 
however, press you no farther, if it be not agreeable. 

Emma. Col. Cecille, I cannot persist in denying your 
request. Justice to my own convictions compels me to 
answer you in perfect truth and candor : that answer is — 
no ! never ! I think I know you both : neither of you can 
harmonize with the other. She is brilliant and accom- 
plished — and yet she is not your peer — she can never really 
appreciate you — ^you are too noble — too noble for that 
woman ! no ! no ! 

Col. C. [^Aside.'] My life on it — she loves me ! Dear 
Emma, I will disguise no longer — I love, deeply and de- 
votedly — not Mrs. Singleton, but — Emma — Emma Dela- 
ney! 



Scene IIJ^ OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 57 

Emma. Oh! Col. Oecille! 

Col. C. Aye ! you, and you alone — dearer than all the 
world to me ! Long, long have I loved you. Dear Emma, 
I will tell you my heart's sweet secret. Two years ago 
I happened in a gallery on the avenue, \_TaMng out da- 
guerreotype,'] when my eye fell accidentally on this daguer- 
reotype — do you recognise it ? 

Emma. [^Starting hack with siirprise.] Ah I it is — 
it is myself ! 

Col. C. So soon as I caught the expression of those 
eyes, I felt in my inmost soul that I had met the being 
whom I had yearned for and dreamed of for years ! that 
the soul which gleamed through those eyes was a part of 
my own — the soul of my soul I — I inquired from the pro- 
prietor of the gallery your name — he could give me no 
information — I succeeded in inducing him to part with 
the likeness — for twelve months I sought out the original 
— and at length found it — found it, and compared it with 
this — and, in my fond fancy, the counterfeit copy seemed 
to blush at the comparison ! And oh ! dear Emma ! if I 
could but know that you loved me — loved me for myself 
alone — loved me with a love like my own — high, holy, 
almost divine — I would ask no other heaven ! 

Emma. Love you ? oh God ! with a love that has been 
an agony ! Love you ? look at this faded cheek — a new 
life is breathed in me. In a few days you shall see a 
natural bloom upon it, brighter than the rose ! Love you ? 
oh, Cecille I Cecille I 

Col. C. \_Embraci7ig her."] God bless you, dearest Em- 
ma ! God bless you for those words ! — oh, rapture ! I can 
now walk the earth as Adam walked paradise before the 
fall ! The good angel has at last rolled the stone from 
the sepulchre ! the old dreams of the past are rising — 
rising from their grave of years — and they shine like sun- 
beams around me ! Too much — too much bliss for poor 
mortality ! 

Enter Mrs. Singleton, unobserved ; sees Col. Cecille 
and Emma, and starts hack suddenly. 



58 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES ^Act F. 

Mrs. S. \_Aside.'] God ! that I should be doomed to wit- 
ness such a scene ! [ Withd7'aws. 

Capt. Smith. [^Without.l This way, Tonawaha, this 
way. \^Emma and Col. Cecille retire apart. 

Enter Captain Smith and Tonawaha. 

Capt. S. Good morning, Col. — well met — Fve got a 
subject here for your Hon. " Committee on Indian Af- 
fairs. '' Tonawaha, this one great white chief from big 
wigwam ; [^Pointing towards the Capitol ;] he good friend 
to red man. 

Tonaicaha. Ah ! how do — how do. 

Capt. S. There^s a specimen of manhood for you — none 
of your civilized hot-house plants — but a genuine native 
flower of the forest — knew his father, old ''Big Thunder," 
before him — fought with him three days off and on in the 
swamps of Florida — grit to the back bone — if he wasn't — 
I'll swallow my head ! 

Col. C Talk English, my friend? 

Ton. Oh, yes, me talk little bit English. 

Capt. JS. There he stands, Col. — a living monument of 
the wrongs of his people — son of a great chief — owner of 
thousands of acres — gagged by your Government — cheated 
by its agents — and now shivering at the doors of our great 
halls of legislation — pleading for a poor pittance until his 
hair is wet with the dews of the night ! There he stands 
— look at him, and blush for your color ! 

Col. C. Well Capt., this is an unfortunate state of 
things, but I don't see how it can be otherwise. Progress 
is the eternal law of nature — the Anglo-Saxon race must 
go onward. If the Indian race will not or cannot assimi- 
late, they must go back. Those who cannot go ivith the 
tide, must sink under. The Government, I conceive, is as 
just as the case will admit. It allows them a fair price — 
ratified by mutual treaties. 

Cajyf. S. Fair price ? Brass rings and rotten whiskey ! 
Treaties ? Put a pistol to a man's breast, and ask him po- 
litely to hand you his purse ! No, sir ! Jack Smith knows 
what he's talking about — wasn't in the everglades of Florida 
three years for nothing. I haven't time or occasion to ar- 



Scene 11.1 ^^ WASHINGTON LIFE, 59 

gue tlie question now, but I will say this : when the secret 
archives are opened at some future day — when the bloody 
chapter of Indian wrongs is given to the world — my word 
for it — it will make a proud nation blush ! 

Ton. Ugh ! Tonawaha want to talk. Pale-faces say big 
words — me not no big words— me no little words — me no 
little what you talk. Pale-faces vair bad to red man. 
Great Spirit give us plenty land — big hunting grounds : 
Pale-faces come, take our land, and drive us way ! Pale- 
faces give us hot red water, which make our heart feel bad, 
and burn us up ! ugh ! Den dey bring us good book, to 
tell bout Great Spirit, and make us good. Ah ! I see other 
book white man write — ugh ! bad pictures ! vaire bad pic- 
tures ! I see one pale-face — he tomahawk, he burn, he kill 
other pale-face, 'cause he no believe in his Great Spirit, 
ugh ! Indian no do dat ! 

Capt. S. That's a clincher ! 

Ton. Long time go, Great Spirit send pale-faces one good 
chief — he tell you no cheat — no steal — he tell you many 
good tings — what you do? you nail him to big crooked 
wood, [cwssi7ig his ariws,] and he die! Ugh I Indian no 
do dat ! 

Capt. S. If that ain't a "ten-strike," I'll swallow my 
head I 

Ton. Tonawaha' s heart feel hot — he want to talk no 
more. [ Turns to Emma.~\ Ah ! squaw coweeshisheen ! 
squaw coweeshisheen ! \_Indian for heautifid.'] 

Capt. S. That's my pappoose, Tonawaha. [Aside to 
Col. C.~\ I say, Col., he doesn't know I'm anoZj bachelor 
— they don't have old bachelors among Indians — it's a 
civilized institution — ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Ton. [ Taking Emma's hand, and examining her rings 
and bracelet.'] Oh! pretty! pretty! Indian like squaw: 
squaw no like Indian ? 

Emma. Oh, yes ! Indian good man — squaw like Indian. 

Ton. Ah ! [patting her gently on her head,"] ochee ! 
ochee ! ocheeokee ! Squaw no talk Indian ? No. Dat 
mean squaw make red man's heart feel good ! Indian love 
squaw — squaw no love Indian? No; Indian ugly man. 
Squaw love great white chief; [points to Cecille — seats 



60 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES \^Act V. 

Jiimself on floor hyher side;'\ no! no! squaw no love ugly 
red man ! 

Enter Mr. No all. 

Nball. Ah! good morning: why, bless me, what is all 
this ? Tableau vivant — as I am a living man I And is 
this a real live Indian — one of your verdant children of 
the forest, \eyeing Tanawaha sniper ciliovbsly 'with his ^^ quiz- 
zing" glassj2 why, he must be taking his first lesson in 
the art of love. [ Tonaioaha rises with an air of of- 
fended dignity, and looks Noall sternly in the eye.'] 

Nball. Why, what means this impertinence ? have you 
no better manners than to stare thus at a gentleman, you 
ill-bred savage? 

Ton. Savage! hah! [seizes Nball hy the throat — Capt. 
JS. and Col. C. catch Tonaicaha hy each arm — he releases 
his hold upon Noall — dashes Col. C. and Capt. S. hack., 
and renews his grasp upon Noall, who is evidently suffo- 
cating.'] 

Emma. [Laying her hand gently on Tonawaha^s shoid- 
der.] Tonawaha ! no ! he is squaw's friend — squaw say 
no! 

Ton. [Releasing his hold.] Squaw, say you her friend 
— Indian love squaw — Indian cut off his head for squaw: 
[gesture,] you say you gentleman — you one little damn 
white dog — ugh ! [Exit Noall indignantly., 

Ton. [To Emma, very humbly.] Indian angry — In- 
dian bad — squaw hate Indian — Indian feel vaire sorry. 

Emma. No, squaw not hate Indian — Indian be good 
man, then squaw like Indian much. 

Ton. Ah ! good ! good ! 

Cajjt. S. Tonawaha ! time up — must go to big wigwam 
and see Great Father. 

Ton. Yes — I come. [Approaches Emma, and takes her 
hand.] Tonawaha go way — way back over big river to 
his tribe — he see pretty white squaw not any more ! not 
any more ! [Evinces deep emotion.] 

Emma. Here, Tonawaha, take this : [places ring on his 
finger] — white squaw like red man — give red man this. 



Scene 1IL'\ or WASHINGTON LIFE. 61 

Ton. Oh! pretty! pretty! coweesliislieen ! when Tona- 
waha far way in big woods — in his wigwam, near the set- 
ting sun, he see dis, and he tink of pretty white squaw all 
de time — all de time ! Good bye ! \_pattmg her on the 
head J as before] — ochee ! ochee ! ocheeokee ! Tonawaha see 
pretty white squaw not any more — not any more ! 

^Exeunt Capt. S. and Tonawaha. 

Cecille. My darling, noble Emma ! Even the rude un- 
tutored child of the forest loves you — how dear, then, 
should you be to your Cecille's heart ! \_Emhraces her.] 
I will leave you now, sweet love ; we will meet again this 
evening — and then you will name the happy day — farewell. 

[^Kisses her — Exit. 

Emma. \_Ahstract€dl^.] Am I dreaming, oh ! am I 
dreaming ? Was not that Cecille's form ? was not that 
Cecille's voice ? Yes! yes! the rich music of those words 
still rings in my ear — he loves me ! he loves me ! — oh ! 
how beautiful is this earth now ! A few moments since, 
and life seemed so poor, so barren — I would have given it 
away for the mere asking — and now, I would not barter 
my estate for a rich kingdom ! He loves me ! he loves 
me ! oh, heart, be still I there is rest for thee g-t last ! 

lExiU 

Scene III. — A private parlor in Col. Delaney's house. 
Col. Cecille and Sharpsteel seated. 

Sharp, Cecille, you wish me to speak frankly, as a 
friend, on this subject? 

Col. C I do, most assuredly. 

Sharp, Then I regret to say that I see no escape con- 
sistent with honor : you must challenge this man to mortal 
combat ! 

Col. C. Sharpsteel, listen to me for one moment": one 
of the cardinal principles of this boasted code of honor is 
the idea of equality — "open field and fair fight," as the 
phrase runs. Now, in this case there is no equality at all 
— Blane is known to be a practiced shot — / am no shot at 
all — if I survive the fight, I will be'.publicly ostracised — 
doomed to my political grave — while he will but receive 



62 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES [Act V. 

fresh laurels from his constituents. Again : Blane is en- 
cumbered with no immediate family ties — while I am 
almost on the eve of my union with one whose whole hap- 
piness, I solemnly believe, is centered in myself. One word 
more : This man has perpetrated a gross wrong upon me 
— must I, in addition to that wrong, allow him the oppor- 
tunity of putting a hot bullet through my body ? I don't 
see the philosophy of it. 

Sharp. My dear Cecille, this is a question of honor, not 
of philosophy — members of Congress can't afford to be 
philosophers — your high public position surrounds you 
with peculiar relations — those relations bring you under 
the jurisdiction of this code of honor: by that code you 
will be judged, and no other. Again I repeat, you must 
fight! 

Col. C. Sharpsteel, you know me too well to suspect me 
of mere personal motives in this matter — but there is one 
awful consideration which overshadows and shuts out all 
others — Emma Delaney ! In a few days I am to lead her 
to the sacred altar, and unite her soul with mine — my 
God ! suppose instead of the music of the marriage bells, 
she should hear the muffled wail of the funeral bells! 
Sharpsteel! I am ready to do all that a man of honor 
should do — make any sacrifice — but my poor, darling 
Emma ! she is dearer to me a thousand times than my own 
life! 

Sharp. Aye ! but there is one thing should be dearer 
still than life, and all else besides — your honor! 

Col. C. [Excitedly.'] Who spoke of honor! 

Sharp. I spoke of honor! your honor! This man, 
Blane, has given you the lie — has grossly insulted you 
before the whole country — and through you he has insulted 
your constituents and your native State ! there is no time 
now to indulge the weakness of humanity — ^you must call 
him out — you must fight him — or by heaven! for the 
honor of our State, Til fight him myself ! 

Col. C. Sharpsteel, not another word! Fll do it! 

[Goes to table, and ivHtes challenge. 

END OF ACT IV. 



Scene /.] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 63 



ACT V. 

Scene I. — Parlor in Col. Delaney's Boarding House. 
Enter Mrs. Bangs and Noall. 

Mrs. B. Have you heard the news about Mrs. Singleton ? 

JSfoall. Oh yes, ma'm. Know all about it: packed up 
late last night — ordered carriage for 6 o'clock train — took 
no leave — gave no sign of approaching dissolution, and 
this morning the report is no7i est inventus. 

Mrs. B. Well, to say the least of it, 'twas a very mys- 
terus affair. Do you know what the cause was ? 

Noall. Oh yes — know all about it, ma'm — can't nay 
much, tho' — guess our friend Cecilia knows all about it 
too — by the by, have you seen anything of the Colonel ? 
I've called to accompany him to a dinner-party. 

Mrs. B. Bless me ! I haven't laid eyes on him since 
yesterday. I was just wonderin' where he'd got to. 

Noall. Indeed ? then there may be some truth in the 
report that he and Blane are going out to fight a duel. 

Mrs. B. What! fight a juel? You don't mean to say 
that they are going out to shoot each other in earnest? 

Noall. Very probable, ma'm — duels are common occur- 
rences in Washington — know all about 'em. 

Mrs. B. Goodness gracious ! I hope and trust my 
poor dear husband is not mixed up in- this bizness — I'll 
go up to his room and see if he is there — oh dear ! \Exit, 

Noall. It's my individual opinion I've kicked up a 
'Hempest in a teapot!" . . . Well, I guess I'll adjourn to 
the dinner-party. Glad Cecille didn't engage me for his. 
second — much rather hear the pop of a champagne cork: 
than the pop of a pistol — prefer the flavor of roast beef 
to gunpowder any day. [Exit. 

Scene II. — Public Streets. 

Enter Sharker, greatly agitated. 
Sharker. Hell ! and all its devils, seem leagued against 



64 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES [Act F. 

me ! Lost my last stake at faro — month's salary pledged 
three times over — trick discovered — ^kicked out of oflSce — 
note, with Secretary's endorsement, fast maturing, with 
every probability of the forgery being detected — not a 
dollar to take it up — no money, no friends, no credit ! 
Great God ! what shall I do? what shall I do? I've sown 
the wind, now comes the whirlwind ! I stand on the brink 
of a precipice — I look down in its gaping abyss, and there 
I behold the demon forms of my past misdeeds — the foul, 
inhuman oifsprings of a guilty conscience — howling and 
gnashing their teeth like devils at me ! . . . Oh, my God I 
how much easier it is, after all, to be an honest man than 
a villain I But stop ! John Sharker, be a man — you must 
not yield ! you are fighting with devils — then fight like a 
devil youi'self ! One desperate effort — all the powers of 
earth — aye, of hell itself — shall yet bend to your iron will L 
\_Enter Police Officer, who ajp^i'^aches, him behind, un- 
observed.'] The bloodhounds of the law have not yet 
started on my trail 

Officer. ^Crrasping him by the shmdder.'] Yes, but they 
have though, my lark — and "bagged their game/' too T 
you're my prisoner ! 

Sharker. Stand back ! your prisoner ? the devil ! what 
do you mean ? 

Officer. What do I mean ? why, I mean that Bill Sly's 
blowed — nabbed — ^and in jail, where you've got to keep 
his company. 

Sharker. Bill Sly ? damnation ! I am lost ! Then let 
me die like a man, as I could not live like one ! 
[^Draius pistol, which is icrenchcd from him by the officer."} 

Officer. No you don't, my bully cock ! you've cheated 
people out of their money — you shan't cheat the law out 
of your body — nor your life neither. Come along with 
you! 'taint no use now — your broadcloth and silk stock- 
ings ain't goin to save you from the penitentiary I 

[^Exit Officer ivith Sharker. 

§cene III. — A Dining-Room. 

Company, seated. Capt. Smith, standing at the head of 
the table, in the attitude of speaking. NoALL, seated 



Scene lll!\ of Washington life. 65 

at tlie corner of the opposite end, in ce state of semi- 

obliviousness. 

Company. Ha! ha! ha! bravo, Captain!- bravo! hur- 
rah! 

JVball. [^Recovering somewhat his consciousness after (he 
applause has subsided.^ Hu — hu — hurrah ! 

Capt. S. Yes, sir, that's the whole of it ! I stand here, 
gentlemen, as a representative of the past. 

Noall. Oh, shut up, old boy — I — I know all about it! 

Capt. JS. Put that fellow out — he's drunk ! 

Noall. Yes, p — put him out! I don't care who he is! 

[Hiccup. 

Company. Ha ! ha ! ha I [Noall relapses^ 

Capt. S. My honorable friend from Connecticut has 
given us a highfalutin dissertation upon what he is pleased 
to term the "sublime law of Progress." What strange 
God is this that I am called on to bow down to and wor- 
ship? 

Noall. Hu — hu — hurrah! 

Capt. S. Will somebody put that fellow out? he's hur- 
rahing in the wrong place. 

A voice. Let him alone a few minutes, and Capt. Whis- 
hy will put him out ! 

Second voice. Oh, no — Gen. Champagne! 

Company. Hal ha! ha! 

Capt. S. I ask, gentlemen, what, how, and where is^ 
this progress? — progress in Government? when our laws^ 
are so weak they can't "walk alone" from one State to 
another, and every mad fanatic gets up a "higher law" 
on his own hook? Progress in liberty? when an honest 
man dare not show his face on election day, and call his 
vote his own, without getting his head smashed with a 
slung-shot or a brickbat ! Progress in political economy ? 
when every pound of sugar we get from our grocer is 
wrapped up in a " Patent Office Report ! " Progress in the 
mechanic arts? when thousands of human victims are be* 
ing butchered by these new-fangled inventions — from a 
locomotive steam-engine down to a camphene-oil lamp! 
Progress in religion? when some of our churches are so 
fashionable that a poor man stands almost as bad a chance 
to get a seat, as a rich man does to go to Heaven ! Sir, if 



66 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES [Act V. 

this be your boasted progress, "Til have none of it!" I 
glory in the name of old fogy I if I don't, I'll — swallow 
my head ! 

Comimny. Good ! good I hurrah ! go ahead, Captain. 

A voice. Hit 'em again, they aint got no friends ! 

Capt. S. Sir, I tell my Northern friends they had better 
go home and burn down all their school-houses. 

Company. Ha! ha! 

Capt. S. Yes, sir, burn 'em down ! their brains have 
got too great a start for the rest of their bodies; and if 
they don't look out, one of these days they'll all collapse 
and go to the mad house ! 

Company. Ha! ha! ha! 

A voice. Good lick ! 

Capt. S. The great evil of this age is,, we are going 
ahead too fast — we are too fast in eating — too fast in drink- 
ing — too fast in making money, and too fast in spending 
it — -our children are too fast to be men — an old-fashioned 
child is almost as hard to find as an honest politician. 

Company. Ha I ha ! ha ! 

A voice. That shot has hit somewhere in this crowd ! 

Capt. S. Our young men are tt)0 fast to become great 
statesmen — where' 11 you find your Tom Jeffersons and 
Andrew Jacksons, in the rising generation? Yes, sir! 
why, our very houses and churches fall down before they 
are finished, or tumble over our heads after they get up ! 
I repeat, gentlemen, we are too fast in everything — and if 
we don't turn from the evil of our ways, the whole nation, 
one of these days, will run ofi" the track — have a general 
smash up, and be blown to the devil I If this isn't the 
" truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," I'll 
swallovj my head ! \_Seats himself ^ am,id tremendous ap- 
p)lause, lohich roivses NoALL, luho joins in vociferously^ 

Unter T 0^1 ScOTT, hurriedly — whispers to the Captain j 
who retires immediately from the tahhj and advances 
with Tom to the front. 

Tom. Oh, Massy Jack, Massy Jack ! I aint got no bref 
to speak I Col. Cecille and Ginul Blane is gwine out at 
5 o'clock to fight a jucl — some say at die chain bridge, and 



Scene IVJ] OF WASAINGTON LIFE, r 67 

some say at Bladensburg — and oh t poor Miss Emma is 
gone clean out of her mind, and is a ravin for to see you* 
O ! Garroo — Garroo ! [African lingo.'\ 

Capt S. My God ! this is horrible ! 

Tom. ! de good God be merciful ! 

Capt. S. If I were but sure of the place, we might 
head then off in time. Not a moment to be lost ! [Ad- 
vances to company.'] Gentlemen, excuse my absence. 
A question of life and death calls me off — I will explain 
all at another time. [Exit Capt. Smith, with Tom-^reat 
sensation in the compaiiy. Picture.~\ 

Scene IV — Room in Col. Delan^y's House. 

Enter EMMAawcZ CoL. Delaney — Emma walking hurried- 
ly to and frOy evincing intense anxiety — CoL. D. follow- 
ing after, and endeavoring to compose her. 

Col. D. Emma, my poor darling ! don^t — donH indulge 
these dreadful feelings — it will all turn out right — ^indeed 
it will — ^the storm will soon blow over, and — 

Emma. Blow over? yes! and leave me a ruined wreck I 
Father, I can bear this agony no longer ! where is uncle 
Jack ? 

Col. D. He will be here in a momemt, my dear, and will 
no doubt put a stop to the whole affair. 

Enter Servant. 

Servant. Here's a letter, sir; no answer, but messenger 
says you must read it immediately. [Exit. Col. Delaney 
reads."] 

Enter Capt. Smith. 

Emma. [Emhracing him.] Oh, uncle Jack, dear uncle 
Jack ! for the love of God, put a stop to this affair ! you 
must do it .r or I shall be a corpse before this day is out ! 
Dear uncle Jack, do not let them murder him — he is too 
noble — too beautiful to die ! Tuesday was to have been 
our happy wedding-day — he must not die ! — I could not 
live in the cold world without him ! oh, uncle Jack — save 
him — save him I if he is killed, my poor heart will break ! 



68 FASmONS AND FOLLIES [^Act V. 

Capt. S. My darling child ! be composed : all that you 
ask shall be done. 

Col. D. [After reading the letter."] Gracious God ! here 
Jack, read this. \^Capt, S. takes the letter j and reads 
aloud:'] 

Col. Delaney-— 

Sir: I am now in jail, awaiting the pen- 
alty of the law for my evil deeds; to save myself from the 
pangs of a torturing conscience, and prevent further evil, 
I am compelled to make a full confession : I was at the 
bottom of the whole aflfair between Cecille and Blane : I 
traduced your' daughter's character to Blane, which caused 
him to commit himself — and informed Cecille, anonymous- 
ly, of the occurrence. I Wrote the offensive newspaper let- 
ters which led to the difficulty in the House-^and afterwards 
represented to Cecille that the author of those letters was 
feed by Blane, for traducing him, (Cecille.) 1 have se- 
cret intelligence of a hostile meeting to take place some- 
time this afternoon, at the duelling-ground on the Seventh 
street road. Should this letter reach them in time, it will 
prevent the affair, and perhaps save a human life — speed ! 
not a moment to be lost. In haste — 

JOHN SHARKER. 

Emma. Ah! he will yet be saved! Quick! uncle Jack — 
for God of Heaven's sake ! 

Capt. S. Never fear — all will be right ! lExit. 

Emma. Father, I am faint ! air — ^give me fresh air ! 
[Co?. D. leads her out.] 

Scene Y — Duelling-ground near Washington — Cecille 
and Blane, with their respective seconds, Sharpsteel 
and De Courcey, and two attendant surgeons, standing 
apart — seconds with pistols. 

Col. DeCourcey. Well, Mr. Sharpsteel, the prelimina- 
ries are all arranged, I believe; shall we proceed to action ? 
Sharp. We are ready, sir. 
Col. C. Sharpsteel, a word with you. 
Sharp. One moment, if you please. Col. De Courcey. 
Col. C. [Aside to Sharpsteel.] Sharpsteel, should I fall 



Scene IV.'] of Washington life. 69 

in this encounter, remember me to poor Emma — ^try to 
soften this blow to her— explain all the circumstances, and 
here, [taking a small package from Ms pocket jI give her 
this — Fve willed her all — all ! poor, darling Emma ! 

Sharp. My dear Cecille, I will faithfully comply with 
your request, should it be necessary ; . but do not talk of 
falling— be sure of a steady aim — make quick time, and 
strike for the centre ! 

Gen. Slane. \Aside to De Courcei/.l I say, De Courcey, 
as Cecille is said to be a " green hand,,^' hadn/t I better 
" draw his fire ? " 

De Courcey. Draw hfs fire ? the devil ! no : you're a 
quick shot, and can " head him off." 

Blane. All right I 

Sharp. \_Handing pistol to Cecille.] Now, Col. De Cour- 
cey, you may pass the word. 

De Courcey. \_After passing pistol to Blane.] Gentle- 
men ! are you ready ? 

Enter Capt. Smith. 

Capt. S. Hold ! gentlemen, this affair must not pro- 
ceed. 

Col. De C. We can allow no interruption, sir, except 
from an officer of the law. 

Capt. S. I am no officer of the law, sir, but I am a gen- 
tleman, and understand the rights of gentlemen. I have 
a document here, \taking from his pocket Sharker's let- 
ter,] which, with men of honor, should have as much 
weight as the "strong arm of the law.'' [Turning to Col. 
Cecille.] Read that sir! [Col. Cecille reads ^ 

Col. C. Is it possible that I have been so duped by this 
villain ! Mr. Sharpsteel, read this, if you please, and 
then present it to Col. De Courcey. [Sharpsteel reads, and 
presents to De Courcey, who reads it with Blane — after 
which, Blane and De Courcey confer apart.] 

Sharpsteel. [Aside to Cecille.] There can be no diffi- 
culty now, I should imagine, in the way of an amicable 
settlement. 

Col. C. I certainly concur with you — and with a view 
to this, you may inform Col. De Courcey that I am willing 



70 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES [Act V. 

to withdraw the challenge, and also to recall my allusions 
in the House, provided Gen. Blane retracts the insult. 

Sharp. I will do so with pleasure. ^To Col. De C] Col. 
De Courcey, a word with you, if you please. [^Sharpsteel 
and De Courcey confer apart for a few moments j after 
which, De Courcey comes forward. ~\ 

Col, De C. Gentlemen, we are happy to state that the 
terms of settlement proposed on either side are mutually 
acceptable, and meet with the entire approbation of all 
parties. 

Gen. Blane. [Approaching Cecille.'] Col. Cecille, allow 
me to proffer you my hand, with the assurance of a perfect 
understanding and a most friendly feeling. 

Col. C. My dear sir, I accept your hand with great 
pleasure, and cordially reciprocate the spirit in which it is 
given. 

Capt. S. That's right ! much more pleasant to shake 
hands with sl friend, than fight with B.foe. 

Col. C. Ah, General, allow me to introduce my highly 
esteemed friend, Capt. John Smith. 

Capt. S. No, sir! Jack — I was christened Jack — no 
relation whatever to John Smith. 

Col. C. Ha! ha! I beg pardon — Capt. Jack Smith, 
Gen. Blane. To the Captain's kind oflices we are indebted 
for this agreeable denouement. 

Gen, B. Capt. Smith, your servant sir; accept my cor- 
dial acknowledgments ; you have checkmated us in a game 
in which, I fear, some of our "moves" were rather hasty. 

Capt. S. Yes, sir ! just like you modern gentlemen : too 
fast in fighting, as you are in everything else. Smelt gun- 
powder myself, considerably; never found it pleasant as a 
pinch of snuff — tho' I seldom use the article. 

Col. De C. [ To Gen. Blane."] Well, General, as the police 
are likely to be on our track, I move we adjourn. 

Gen. Blane. I second that motion, sir. Gentlemen I wish 
you good evening and a pleasant journey home. [Exit. 
Gen, B., with Col, De C. and surgeon.] 

Capt. S. Col. Cecille, I have just parted with poor Em- 
ma ; we had better hasten our return, or this matter may 
end in a tragedy yet. 



Scene VI.'] 



OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 



71 



Col. C. Grood God ! Captain^ does she know of this af- 
fair? 

Capt. S. Know of it? could you have witnessed her 
agony of mind when I left her— I trust in God I may 
never look upon the like again ! 

Col. C. Let us return immediately ! [Exeunt all. 

Scene YI — Parlor in Col. Delaney's house as he/ore — Mrs, 
Bangs pacing the room anxiously. 

Mrs. B. Oh dear ! what an awful place this "Washing- 
ton is : people think no more of shooting one another 
than eating their dinners ! wish I was only once out of it- 
no forty horses couldn't pull me back again. 



Enter Miss Bangs. 

Miss B. Mother, I just met old uncle Tom coming down 
from Emma's room — he has called to know if his master 
has got back. 

Mrs. B. Tell him to step in here, my dear — I want to 
speak to him. [Exit Miss B. and returns with Tom Scott. 

Tom. Sarvant, Missus. 

Mrs. B. Ah, Tom, how did you leave Miss Emma ? 

Tom. Oh, marm, she takes it hard — bery hard ! my 
heart was wownded to see de poor lubly crittur — knowed 
her from de cradle — couldn't feel more'n she'd ben my own 
flesh and blood ! 

Mrs. B. Poor dear child ! I feel very sorry for her : 
what a pity she should throw away her feelins so on one 
so much above her. 

Tom. Bove her, marm? beg pardon — Gunnel Cissul 
nor no oder gemman will eber see de day dat dey is bove 
my young missus ! no marm, not eben de President ob 
dese Uniten States hissef ! Knowed her grand-fader, old 
Ginul Delaney, afore her, marm; driv in his "coach and 
four" wid de lib'ry — Mrs. Madison neber gib no party dat 
old Ginul Delaney and his lady wasn't dar ! Bove her ! 
I golly, mar'm, de Delaneys is ob de high quality stock — 
de raal ole Firginny blood — and no mistake ! yes mar'm 

Mrs. B. Well, Tom, I like jour family pride; that's 



72 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES ^Act V. 

right — always stick up for your master and your master's 
friends. 

Enter Capt. SMiTB.y /olloi€ed hy Cecille and Sharpsteel. 

Ca'pt. S. Here we are, alive and kicking — it's all right ! 

Tom. de good Grod be bressed! Hallilujah! 

Mrs. B. \_Shakmg hands with Col. Cecille.^ Oh, Colonel, 
my dear Colonel ! I am so glad to see you alive — indeed I am ! 

Col. C. I thank you, madam — sincerely thank you. 
[Looking around.'] Where is Miss Emma Delaney? 

Col. Delaney. [ Without.] They've come — they've come ! 
here they are I 

Emma. [ Witho^U.] Where ! where ! 

Col. C. Ah ! that voice again ! 

Enter CoL. Delaney, followed hy Emma, who^ seeing 
Col. Cecille, utters an exclamation of joy., and falls in 
his arms, 

Emma. Oh Cecille ! Cecille ! 

CoL C. Bly dear, darling Emma! 

Capt. Smith. [ Trying to repress his emotion.'] I — I'm a 
soft-hearted old fool — but I can't help it ! [ Vlaces hand- 
kerchief to his eyes.] 

Mrs. B. Bless my stars! why, it is a "match" sure 
enough ! 

Emma. Oh, Cecille ! could you but know the agony I 
have endured ! Why, why did you treat me so ? 

Col. C. Dear Emma ! do not reproach me now — Sharp- 
steel will explain all — he will tell you my struggle — had 
I fallen, your name would have been the last word on my 
lips, and your image the last impression on my heart! 
Will you not forgive me, Emma? I could not bear one 
harsh word from those sweet lips : say, do you not pardon 
me? 

Emma. Dear Cecille, I do ! all shall be forgotten ! 

Capt. S. That's right ! nothing like forgiveness : it's an 
article in universal demand : few of our best deeds that 
wouldn't be improved by a little seasoning with the salt 
of charity. 



Scene F/.] OF WASHINGTON LIFE. 73 

Col. Delanoy. [^Shaking hands ivith CecilleJ] Col. Ce- 
cille^ I am truly rejoiced at yonr safe return. 

Col. G. I thank you, Colonel, most sincerely, and deeply 
regret having caused so much trouble in your house. 

Col. D. Don't mention it, sir — 'tis all forgotten in the 
joy of our re-union. 

Mrs. B. Lord ! Captain, if it hadn't ben for you, what 
an awful bad bizness this might'er turned out? 

Cajpt. 8. Yes, madam! ^^fighting's a bad business, well 
followed." "Bear and forbear" is the good old Bible 
doctrine — and it's the true doctrine, too — if it isn't — Fll 
swallow my head! 

Sharp. Yes, Captain, but there is another old adage 
which says, " there is a time when forbearance ceases to 
be a virtue." 

Ca2)t. S. True, sir ; and that time happens once in a 
"month of Sundays." I tell you, sir, we are all too fast 
to fight and too slow to forgive. A little forbearance on 
either side would save many a bloody deed and many a 
wretched conscience! "Bear and forbear" — that's the 
doctrine; I've been sixty years learning it, and haven't 
" got it by heart" yet; and when you are as old as I am, 
yoiCll believe iti it too ! 

Emma. Dear, good uncle Jack ! how shall we thank, 
how bless you ? to you we owe all — everything ! 

Capt. S. Stop, stop! Don't run in debt so fast: bad 
principle to acknowledge more than you owe : better com- 
mence to ^ig-m't^a^e now. \Kissesher^ As for my Honora- 
ble friend here, \turning to Cecille,'] there is no lex scripta 
to meet his case — unless, indeed, he compromise with the 
defendant, and take the ^^ Benefit of Clergy.'' 

Col. C. My dear Captain, I adopt your legal advice most 
willingly — that is, provided the ^'defendant'' consents. 

Capt. S. How is it ? does the defendant agree to the 
compromise ? [^Emma hangs her head hlushingly,'] ahem ! 
silence implies consent; \to Cecille,'] you may take her arm 
sir : [ Cecille takes Emma's arm,] ah ! you little rogue ; 
you never let your old uncle into your secret until you 
couldn't keep it any longer. \^To Mrs. Bangs.] There's 
a couple for you, ma'm; look at 'em! I only wish Mrs. 



74 FASHIONS AND FOLLIES [Act V. 

Singleton was here, to do likewise ; the sight would do her 
eyes good — she'd never have to wear "specs" in her old 
age — ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Sharp. By the by, Captain, what has become of Noall ? 

Capt. S. The last time I saw him, he was rapidly as- 
cending to the "third heaven" of champagne ! 

Col. C. And what of that villain. Sharker ? 

Capt. S. Sharker? oh, city air doesn't agree with his 
health: he is going to try the effects of the salubrious 
river-breeze down on G-reenleaf s Point. 

Enter Noall, 'inanifesting decided symptoms of recovery. 

Mrs. Bangs. Ah, there's Mr. Noall, now. \^3feeting 
him.l Oh! Mr. Noall, they've all got back safe and 
sound — it's all right ! 

Noall. Oh, yes; I know all about it! [shaking hands 
with (7ea7Ze,] my dear, dear Colonel ! I am ex — excessively 
happy to meet you in a state of — of — vitality ! ex — exces- 
sively happy ! 

Col. C. I thank you, my dear sir, most cordially. 

Noall. Excuse me, Miss Emma; my ^oy overcomes my 
ut — ut — ut' ranee I I'm ex — excessively happy ! 

Capt. Smith And so we all are I We've had a rough path 
and a crooked path to travel; but, thank God ! it has, at 
length, led us out into the green pastures ; and the dark 
scenes we have passed v^ill only be remembered as a part 
of the — Fashions and Follies of Washington-life. 



EPILOGUE. 

Col. Delaney. Kind friends, before we say " good night,' 
We wish to know if all is right? 

Capt. Smith. The pris'ner here has an honest face; 

[Pointing to Cecillef\ 
To you we now submit his case. 

Mrs. Bangs. I think, myself, 'twas very cruel 
To leave his love and fight a juel! 



i.=z 



Scene F/] 



OP WASHINGTON LIFE. 



75 



Col. Cecille. The cause of this, I will confess : 

Although your pardon I implore — 

^^Not that I loved my Emma less, 
But that I loved my honor more ! " 
Capt. Smith. Bravo ! Cecille — that^s well said; 

If it isn't a "hit'' — I'll swallow my head! 
Sharpsteel. 'Tis my time now to take the stand : 

And, first of all, I'm a fast young man ; 

But yet I think the Captain's right — 

We'd better shake hands than have a fight. 
Emma. And now, kind friends, our task is done; 

Have we your good opinions won ? 
Capt. Smith. Will you applaud ? we can't get on without it. 
Noall. Of course they will — I know all about it! 

Capt. Smith. There's only one thing wanting now : 

Tom Scott \ come up, sir, and make your bow. 
Tom. I karn't bow now as I used to could, 

But still old nigger's heart feel good ! 

! may you hear de Shepherd's call, 

And may de good Lord bress you all ! 
Col. Delaney. This play of fashion, love, and strife, 

Is a picture true of human life — 

The tale, no doubt, you all have read; 
Capt. Smith. If it isn't true Fll swallow my head! 

\_Picture — curtain falls. 



END or ACT V. 
FINIS. 



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